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THE 

COLONIALS 

Being  a  narrative  of  events 

chiefly  connected  -with  the  Siege 

and  Evacuation  of  the  town 

of  Boston  in  New 

England. 

Written  by 


And  Published  01^  Ttr^^v//!        \^ 
DOCJBLEDAT.  PAGE  and  Co. 

A.D.      1903 


COPYRIGHT,  1901,  BY 
OOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  CO 


THE  MEMORT OT 
MTfATHER 


2129989 


Table  of 

CONTENTS 


BOOK   I 

THE    DELIVERER 

CHAPTER  PACK 

I.     THE  Two  MEN 3 

II.     THE  CAPTIVE 10 

III.     INDIAN  NATURE 14 

IV.     "  BY  THE  WHITE  MAN'S  GOD  !  " 20 

V.     BENJY 25 

VI.     "WHAT  WE  ARE  ABOUT  TO  RECEIVE"        ...  31 

VII.     THE  KNOLL  AMONG  PINES 38 

VIII.     THE  LITTLE  DRUM  OF  THE  METAI       .        .        .        .43 

IX.     THE  CABIN  IN  THE  WOODS 49 

X.     COMPANIONSHIP 53 

XI.     RETROSPECT 57 

XII.     TEMPTATION 61 

XIII.     DANGER 64 

XIV.     THE  FIGHT 66 

XV.     THE  ESCAPE 71 

XVI.     FAMINE • 75 

XVII.     SEPARATION 77 

BOOK   II 

WHIGS,    TORIES,    AND    REDCOATS 

I.     ROXBURY  TAVERN 83 

II.     BOSTON  TOWN 92 

III.     TEA  AND  SALT  WATER  .                                                 .  100 


viii  Contents 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

IV.    THE  ELLERY  HOUSE 105 

V.     THE  NEW  MANAGER 115 

VI.    THE  BRITISH  COFFEE  HOUSE 124 

VII.     THE  ELLERY  ROPEWALKS 133 

VIII.     THE  VOYAGE 141 

IX.    AN  ARRIVAL 145 

X.     THE  SECOND  OF  SEPTEMBER 153 


BOOK   III 

AN   ARMED   TRUCE 

I.     "WELCOME,  BROTHER!" 163 

II.     THE  HOME-COMING 173 

III.  REDCOATS  AND  TORIES 178 

IV.  AN  UNWELCOME  GUEST 184 

V.  A  COMMISSION        ........  190 

VI.     A  MESS  OF  POTTAGE 198 

VII.    A  NEW  ALLIANCE 207 

VIII.     PETTINESS 213 

IX.     ROGER 219 

X.     TENSION 229 

XI.     SMOKING  THE  WHIG 237 

XII.    THE  EDGE  OF  THE  VOLCANO 246 


BOOK    IV 
CONCORD  FIGHT  AND    CHARLESTOWN   BATTLE 

I.     THE  NINETEENTH  OF  APRIL 257 

II.     THE  SIEGE  BEGINS 266 

III.     PERSEVERANCE        ........     272 


Contents  ix 

CHAPTER  FACE 

IV.     TUDOR'S  DILEMMA 279 

V.     THE  SNARE  FOR  DICKIE 287 

VI.     WAITING 294 

VII.     BARBARA'S  GATE 300 

VIII.     INFORMATION 306 

IX.     THE  BOY  AND  THE  MAN 313 

X.     EVIDENCE 319 

XI.     THE  REBELS 325 

XII.    CHARLESTOWN  BATTLE  .......  329 


BOOK  V 

PLOT   AND  COUNTERPLOT 

I.     BROTHERS 341 

II.     CLASH  OF  SWORDS 351 

III.     PRISON 361 

IV.    A  SPIDER  WEB 369 

V.    THE  WAY  OUT 381 

VI.     RENDERING  ACCOUNT 391 

VII.     THE  LETTER 401 

VIII.    HOLLOW  SUCCESS 410 


BOOK   VI 

RETRIBUTION 

I.    "THE  MAN  is  BAD!" 415 

II.    THE  ASPECT  OP  TRUTH 422 

III.  STAGES  OF  DRINK 427 

IV.  THE  ELLERY  LIBRARY 434 

V.     SURPRISAL 439 

VI.     IN  COLD  BLOOD    ,. 445 


Contents 


CHAPTER 

VII.  DORCHESTER  HEIGHTS  . 

VIII.  EVACUATION  .... 

IX.  VILLAINY        .... 

X.  THE  BRIGANTINE  "ELIZABETH" 

XI.  PUNISHMENT  .... 

XII.  THE  FAITHFUL  CITY 


TheJ'own  of  Bos' ton,  \ 

from  an  old  print. 


THE  COLONIALS 


Hook  One 


xxxxxxxxsooo 


Chapter  One 


The  Two  Men 


OR  ages  the  great  lakes  of  North 
America  lay  in  their  gloomy  soli- 
tudes, the  garb  of  nature  clothing 
their  endless  shores.  Upon  the 
waters  of  those  inland  seas,  within 
the  depths  of  the  enormous  forests, 
the  petty  mutterings  of  barbaric 
wars  were  lost.  Though  the  record  of  savage  migra- 
tions remained  in  human  memory,  not  even  a  pile  of 
stones  marked  an  historic  spot. 

But  at  last  the  white  man  came  into  the  region,  and  a 
new  epoch  began.  The  vast  surface  of  the  forest,  the 
long  reaches  of  the  shores,  were  still  almost  the  same ; 
but  here  and  there  was  a  tiny  gap  in  the  tree-tops,  here 
and  there  were  the  charred  ruins  of  buildings,  here 
and  there  the  pick  and  shovel  had  made  trenches  and 
mounds  which  would  remain  for  many  years.  These 
were  the  feeble  beginnings  of  a  stupendous  change, 
while  the  Indian  was  yet  master  in  the  land,  the  forest 
still  covered  the  earth,  and  while  the  wild  beasts  for 


4  The  Colonials 

many  years  to  come  were  to  enjoy  their  natural 
haunts. 

In  the  late  autumn  of  the  year  1772,  the  shores  of 
Lake  Huron  seemed  still  unbroken  in  their  monotony. 
The  black  forest  pushed  up  close  to  the  beach;  the 
waters  lapped  the  rounded  pebbles ;  and  on  the  unend- 
ing surface  of  the  lake  no  canoe  or  boat  was  visible. 
But  where  at  the  eastern  point  of  Saginaw  Bay  a  little 
river  entered  embayed  waters,  some  dozens  of  trees  had 
been  felled,  the  smoke  of  fires  ascended,  and  the  sounds 
of  human  activity  were  to  be  heard. 

It  was  an  encampment  of  soldiers  of  the  English 
king.  A  few  tents  stood  close  together,  a  little  apart 
from  a  cabin  of  logs.  On  the  beach  men  worked  at 
the  repairing  of  boats;  toward  the  land  sentinels  in 
red  coats  patrolled  the  camp.  Outside  its  limits,  but 
huddled  close  to  the  line,  were  Indian  wigwams,  and  at 
a  distance  was  a  bark  hut  of  better  make,  but  still  of 
savage  workmanship.  None  but  the  soldiers  might 
enter  the  camp ;  therefore  from  the  door  of  the  hut  a 
white  girl  gazed  often  wistfully  at  the  men  of  her  own 
race. 

The  commandant  of  the  soldiers  walked  by  the  shore, 
looked  out  on  the  lake,  and  was  impatient  to  be  gone. 
There  were  yet  three  days  before  the  boats  could  be 
finished,  and  his  injured  in  condition  to  move.  He 
cursed  his  luck;  he  tantalised  himself  by  the  muttered 
name  of  London.  London,  where  his  promotion  was 
already  purchased ! 

Still  in  the  woods — damnation !  How  stupid  it  had 
been!  Dull  soldier-life, sullen  Indians, boorish  colonials; 
changeless,  inexpressibly  dreary  trees  and  waters.  Be- 
hind him  still  was  the  same  dark  forest;  in  front  were 
the  same  sand-spits,  the  same  lake  limitless  as  the  ocean. 
Detroit  would  be  the  same — a  frontier  block-house. 


The  Deliverer  5 

with  soldiers,  colonials,  Indians,  land  and  water,  all  alike 
unbearable.  No  life!  No  gaming,  with  men  who  lived 
but  on  a  pittance.  No  drinking  fit  for  a  gentleman. 
Brandy  was  hard  to  come  at,  wine  all  but  unknown.  A 
single  bottle,  the  last,  was  among  his  luggage;  there  was 
no  more  to  be  had  short  of  Montreal. 

But  London !  Then  there  would  be  no  more  of  this 
provincial  service.  An  allowance  proper  to  a  gentle- 
man, a  fashionable  regiment,  gaming,  wine,  women. 
Women !  Not  one  handsome  woman  in  all  this  wilder- 
ness. Not  one !  He  kicked  the  pebbles  in  disgust. 

His  servant  approached  him.  "  Begging  your  pardon, 
Lieutenant." 

"Well,  Tabb?" 

"  Those  two  woodsmen  that  came  this  afternoon,  in 
their  canoe.  I  can't  get  nothing  out  o'  them." 

"What?"  in  astonishment.  "Will  they  not  guide 
us?" 

'  'Tis  the  younger,  sir,  seems  to  be  the  leader.  He 
says  they  can't  wait." 

"  Tell  them  I'll  pay  them  well.    Tell  them  they  must." 

"  They  won't  take  must,  sir.  They  say  they  go  on 
to-morrow." 

The  lieutenant  kicked  at  the  pebbles  again.  "  I  must 
speak  to  them  myself,  then.  Rat  me,  what  fellows  I 
have  to  deal  with  here !  " 

Two  voyagers  had  made  their  camp  apart.  Their 
canoe  was  drawn  up  by  the  river  shore ;  their  fire  made. 
Crotched  sticks  made  a  gun-rack  for  their  flint-locks ; 
and  hunting-swords,  weapons  so  unusual  that  their 
owners  were  famed  among  the  Indians,  hung  there 
beside.  A  little  man  squatted  before  the  blaze,  drying 
wet  powder  in  an  iron  dish.  His  companion  stood  and 
watched  him,  stretching  long  limbs  cramped  by  a  day 
in  the  canoe.  The  old  man  studied  his  powder  care- 


6  The  Colonials 

fully;  the  young  man  luxuriated  in  yawns.  Neither 
noticed  the  approach  of  the  lieutenant — or  it  seemed  so. 
He  was  forced  to  speak. 

"  Here — you,"  he  said. 

The  old  man  grunted;  the  taller  turned  and  re- 
sponded. "  Good  evening,  Lieutenant." 

The  Lieutenant  of  the  King's  24th  Foot  did  not  find 
respect  to  please -him.  He  spoke  with  a  drawl,  in- 
solently. 

"  The  sergeant  says  you  are  good  lake  guides." 

"  Indifferent  good,  Lieutenant,  but  not  guides." 

"  That  means  your  price  is  higher.  Well,  I'll  pay. 
My  guides  are  useless.  See  the  mess  they've  brought 
me  to.  Caught  here  in  a  gale,  two  boats  wrecked,  my 
corporal  and  two  men  injured.  Come,  what's  your 
price?  You  must  bring  me  to  Detroit." 

The  little  man  shook  his  head;  the  younger  spoke 
frankly.  "  Lieutenant,  you  must  excuse  us." 

"  Three  guineas,"  said  the  lieutenant.  "  Four 
guineas! " 

"  We  must  on  to-morrow." 

"  Rat  me !  "  the  lieutenant  cried.  "  What  if  I  am 
wrecked  again  ?  " 

"  You'll  lose  another  ten  days." 

The  lieutenant  was  not  without  resource.  The  airs 
of  the  mess-room  failing  of  effect,  he  tried  conciliation. 
"  My  good  fellow " 

Too  late.  The  tall  young  fellow  smiled.  "  But  I'm 
not  your  good  fellow." 

The  lieutenant  exploded.  "  Pox  you !  "  He  turned 
away,  and  with  clanking  sword  stalked  to  his  men. 

The  young  man  smiled.  "  As  if  I  would  delay  my 
return  a  day,  Benjy,  a  single  day!  I  enter  Boston  on 
my  birthday.  Once  of  age,  my  uncle  cannot  hinder  me 
from  what  I  wish  to  do." 


The  Deliverer  7 

"  Except,"  said  Benjy,  "  from  what  you  most  wish." 

"  Not  even  from  that,"  answered  the  other.  "  If  I 
could  make  up  my  mind  to  do  anything  so  unkind  to 
Dickie,  I  could  enter  the  ropewalks.  In  three  years  I 
have  changed.  No  one  would  know  me.  Can  you  recall 
the  sickly  boy  I  was  when  first  I  came  away  with  you? 
And  now — look  at  me !  " 

He  stretched  himself  to  his  full  height,  and  squared 
his  shoulders.  His  was  a  figure  of  great  strength,  and, 
more  than  that,  of  abounding  health.  His  eyes  were 
quick  and  bright,  his  face  well  tanned.  His  form  was 
erect  and  lithe ;  he  held  his  head  aloft  with  the  grace 
of  an  Indian.  But  the  little  crooked  man,  looking  at 
him  asquint,  felt  with  his  admiration  the  pain  of  an 
old  man's  jealousy. 

"  The  woods  are  no  longer  enough  for  you,"  he  com- 
plained. "  You  want  other  companions." 

Frank  laid  a  hand  upon  the  other's  shoulder.  "  Be 
not  angry  with  me.  But  go  I  must." 

Benjy  made  no  reply ;  he  knew  how  his  companion 
had  looked  forward  to  the  birthday  now  approaching. 
And  Frank  stood  musing — even  as  the  young  muse, 
sometimes — of  his  past. 

He  had  been  brought  up  in  that  distant  Boston  to 
which  his  thoughts  now  turned.  The  Ellery  family 
enjoyed  respect  in  the  colonial  town;  the  position  to 
which  its  older  son  was  born  was  of  importance.  His 
father  died  when  he  was  but  sixteen ;  therefore  the 
estate  and  the  family  business  of  rope-making  waited 
for  the  son's  hand.  His  ambition  had  been  taught  to 
centre  upon  them.  To  maintain  the  honour  of  the  name 
in  the  town,  by  honourable  manufacture  and  trade,  was 
his  one  desire.  But  his  uncle,  in  the  position  of  his 
guardian,  came  in  between. 

A  mean  spirit,  a  nagging  temper,  and  certain  secret 


8  The  Colonials 

undeveloped  desires,  caused  the  uncle  to  war  upon  the 
boy  for  two  years.  Frank  should  not  enter  the  rope- 
walks,  nor  have  anything  to  do  with  the  business.  This, 
for  a  boy  who  from  his  tenth  year  had  delighted  in  the 
atmosphere  of  the  walks,  was  hard  indeed.  He  had 
associated  with  the  workmen,  and  learned  with  his  own 
hand  to  make  ropes,  till  they  proclaimed  him  their  equal. 
The  old  manager,  years  long  a  servant  of  the  Ellerys, 
had  begged  for  his  assistance  in  the  work.  The  boy  was 
able,  even  at  his  age,  to  superintend  the  forty  workmen ; 
old  Humphreys  promised  to  make  him  the  best  business 
man  in  Boston.  The  uncle  himself  knew  nothing  of  the 
work;  and  years  of  absence  in  New  York  had  unfitted 
him  for  Boston  business.  But  he  refused  the  request, 
declaring  that  until  the  younger  son  became  of  age, 
when  his  trusteeship  was  to  terminate,  neither  of  his 
wards  should  enter  the  ropewalks. 

Tastes  and  desires  were  opposed  in  uncle  and  nephew. 
The  boy  was  open  and  simple ;  but  he  had  a  strong 
family  pride,  with  a  sense  of  dignity  lacking  in  his  uncle. 
He  would  not  sell  the  old  Ellery  house,  nor  a  foot  of 
the  family  possessions.  The  uncle,  thwarted  by  the  pro- 
visions of  the  will  which  gave  the  boy  so  much  power, 
turned  in  revenge  to  sell  the  personal  estate,  in  the 
shape  of  family  jewels  and  silver.  At  the  same  time  he 
prepared  to  bind  the  boy  apprentice  to  another  trade. 
Frank  was  then  just  turned  eighteen,  weak  and  almost 
consumptive,  but  full  of  spirit.  Encouraged  and  abetted 
by  Benjy,  an  old-time  servant,  the  boy  seized  the  jewels 
boldly,  claiming  they  were  his.  The  man  took  the  silver 
in  the  open  street  from  the  tradesman  who  had  bought 
them.  Mr.  Ellery  called  the  law  to  his  aid,  but  jewels 
and  silver,  man  and  boy,  disappeared  together. 

Long  living  in  the  pine  woods  brought  Frank  Ellery 
strength  of  body.  His  strength  of  purpose  never  left 


The  Deliverer  9 

him.  To  return  to  Boston  when  he  was  of  age;  to  wait 
until  his  younger  brother  should  be  twenty-one;  then 
finally  to  claim  his  own — these  he  lived  for.  And  oh, 
to  see  his  home  again,  to  see — but  to  see ! — his  brother 
Dickie  and  his  friends !  Long  had  the  time  been,  diffi- 
cult the  waiting,  until  at  last  he  was  starting  on  his 
journey  home. 

So  he  stood  thinking,  and  Benjy  squatted  again  at 
the  fire,  this  time  to  cook  food.  A  slender  figure 
approached  them  quietly,  drawing  near  with  eager  and 
yet  hesitating  steps.  Old  Benjy,  always  alert,  heard  the 
jingle  of  a  silver  bell,  at  the  same  time  that  the  move- 
ment near  him  caught  Frank's  eye.  They  turned,  and 
then,  as  they  perceived  their  visitor,  started  and  stood 
staring. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE    CAPTIVE 

It  was  a  girl  in  Indian  dress.  "  A  white  girl !  "  said 
they  both. 

Benjy  scanned  her  carefully.  He  noted  the  em- 
broidered deerskins,  the  hawksbells  and  silver  trinkets 
on  her  bodice,  and  the  elaborately  dressed  hair;  all 
signs  of  a  family  favourite.  Francis  looked  only  at  the 
face.  Fair  haired,  with  a  complexion  despite  the  sun 
still  clear  and  rosy,  an  oval  countenance,  blue  eyes 
from  which  anxiety  looked  out,  a  sweet  and  gentle 
mouth  with  trembling  lip — these  were  what  he  saw, 
upon  an  undeveloped  form  of  scarce  fifteen.  "  Who 
are  you?"  he  cried  when  the  spell  left  him. 

"  I'm  Alice,  sir,"  she  said.     "  Alice  Tudor." 

"  Good  God,"  he  said  slowly.    "  You  luckless  child !  " 

Her  eyes  filled  suddenly ;  but  she  kept  her  gaze  upon 
the  young  man,  saying  nothing. 

"  You  live  with  the  Indians,"  he  asked. 

"  I  live  with  Aneeb." 

"  Not  " — he  shrunk  at  the  idea — "  your  husband  ?  " 

"  He  is  my  father." 

"Aneeb?"  queried  Benjy.  "Aneeb  the  Pottawot- 
tomi?" 

"  Yes." 

Frank  was  still  staring.     "  Come  here,"  he  said. 


The  Deliverer  1 1 

She  came  closer.  He  put  his  hand  upon  her  shoulder 
and  looked  down  into  her  face.  "  How  long  have  you 
been  with  Aneeb  ?  " 

"  Almost  a  year.  But  first  I  was  with  some  Wyan- 
dots — a  little  while." 

"  Aneeb  bought  you?  " 

"  Yes.  He  was  sorry  for  me.  His  daughter  had  just 
died." 

"  Sad  !  Sad  !  "  he  thought.  Sadness  was  in  her  face. 
"  You  are  happy?  "  he  asked.  "  You  like  this  life?  " 

The  tears  came  again,  and  overflowed.  Her  com- 
posure vanished.  "  No  !  "  she  cried.  "  No  !  No !  Aneeb 
is  good,  but  I  want  my  own  father.  Oh,  let  me — let 
me — ."  Fast-crowding  sobs  checked  her  speech,  but 
for  an  instant  only.  As  the  young  man  gazed  with  sym- 
pathy, he  saw  her  pressing  back  emotion,  struggling 
for  self-control.  In  haste  she  spoke  again,  as  know- 
ing that  her  fate  depended  upon  her  plain  petition. 

"  Take  me  with  you  !  "  she  begged. 

Strange  voice,  with  childish  sobs  and  womanly  appeal 
sublimely  blended !  Strange  sight,  of  that  barbaric 
dress  with  the  fair  girl  reminding  him  of  home  !  Touch- 
ing it  was,  to  find  that  sweet  child  in  the  wilderness,  to 
see  her  so  pathetically  pleading,  and  to  him.  Fierce 
indignation  that  such  a  thing  should  be,  natural  love 
for  all  things  young  and  helpless,  moved  strong  within 
him.  The  very  depths  of  his  emotions  stirred. 

"  Yes,  Alice,"  he  cried.    "  You  shall  come !  " 

But  Benjy  interposed.     "  Promise  nothing!  " 

Frank  looked  at  him,  indignant.  He  felt  upon  his 
arms  hers  clinging  gladly. 

"  'Twill  be  difficult,"  urged  the  old  man.  "  Impossible 
even.  What  can  you  do?" 

Alice  clung  closer  at  the  words.  Benjy  was  right. 
Frank  was  struck  to  silence.  She  felt  the  change  that 


12  The  Colonials 

came  over  him,  and  panted  with  fear.  "  Oh !  Oh !  You 
too!  You  too!  "  She  left  him,  and  stood  away. 

"  Alice,"  he  asked.  "  Have  others  promised  to  help 
you?" 

"  Yes,"  she  said.    Her  voice  was  dulled.    "  Others." 

"Will  Aneeb  sell  you?" 

"  No,"  she  said.  "  Others  have  tried.  White  men, 
to  save  me.  Indians,  to — to " 

"  To  marry  you  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  You  are  too  young!  "  he  cried. 

"  But  not  too  pretty,"  growled  Benjy. 

Frank  stood  and  thought,  looking  at  the  shrinking 
figure.  A  mere  child  she  was,  but  of  good  parentage — 
far  too  good.  Hers  was  a  body  strong  enough  for  the 
hardships  of  the  woods,  but  with  a  mind  too  high  to 
accept  the  life.  He  knew  that  Indian  captives  were  often 
kindly  treated,  and  sometimes  even  came  to  prefer  the 
wilderness.  But  it  would  not  be  so  with  her.  She  would 
beat  against  her  bars  till  she  should  die. 

"  Alice,"  he  asked.    "  Where  is  Aneeb?  " 

"  At  the  bark  lodge,"  she  said.  She  found  fresh  hope, 
even  in  his  question.  "  We  were  preparing  to  go.  We 
had  just  packed.  But  the  Panther  came  to  talk  with 
him,  and  I  slipped  out  to  you.  He — he  wants  me.  I 
was  afraid." 

Frank  caught  Benjy's  eye ;  then  glanced  at  the  canoe. 
"Could  we ?'" 

Benjy  shook  his  head. 

"  Alice,"  said  the  young  man.  "  Go  back  to  Aneeb. 
I  will  come  presently.  What  I  can  do,  I  will." 

She  walked  away,  patient  for  yet  a  while. 

"  And  the  government,"  said  Francis  bitterly,  "  will 
do  nothing  for  such  a  helpless  child  as  that.  Tis  the 
memory  of  Bradstreet  at  Sandusky,  his  cowardly  aban- 


The  Deliverer  13 

donment  of  people  of  his  own  race,  that  makes  the 
Indians  so  bold  to  keep  their  captives.  Were  I  this 
lieutenant  here  I  would  take  and  keep  her." 

"  Ay,"  said  Benjy  drily,  "  and  have  the  tribes  again 
loose,  and  a  war  on  the  whole  frontier.  Pontiac  still 
lives.  For  this  one  girl  a  thousand  whites  would  die." 

"  One  good  lesson,  taught  them  well !  Had  I  but  one 
regiment  to  do  it !  " 

"  But  having  it  not,  what  then?  " 

"  Buy  her,"  he  answered. 

"  But  Frank,"  cried  Benjy.  "  What  will  you  do  with 
her?  Take  her  with  us?" 

"Ay." 

The  old  man  spread  his  hands.  "  And  the  journey 
long !  And  the  canoe  heavy  loaded !  Think  of  the 
delay."  Benjy  touched  his  companion  there.  "  We 
should  lose  so  much  time  that  the  winter  might  over- 
take us.  Or  supposing  she  wished  to  go  to  her  parents  ? 
And  if  not,  she  would  be  on  your  hands  for  support." 

Frank  had  no  answer  to  the  host  of  objections,  but 
he  shook  his  head  doggedly.  "  I  care  not.  Stay  you 
here.  I  go  to  see  Aneeb." 


CHAPTER   III 

INDIAN     NATURE 

The  bark  hut  of  the  Pottawottomi  stood  a  little  by 
itself,  yet  near  the  group  of  Chippewa  wigwams.  Aneeb 
had  been  first  on  the  ground,  the  soldiers  came  by 
accident,  the  Chippewa  came  in  the  hope  of  trading. 
Aneeb  liked  his  neighbours  not,  and  was  preparing  to 
depart.  As  Frank  approached  the  lodge  a  young 
Chippewa  left  it.  The  white  man  gave  the  salute  of 
an  acquaintance,  but  the  Indian  made  no  response. 
"  Good,"  said  Frank.  "  He  is  disappointed."  Embold- 
ened, he  entered  the  hut. 

More  than  once,  in  his  wanderings,  Frank  had  met 
the  Pottawottomi.  Celebrated  among  his  people  for 
integrity  arjd  courage,  frequently  called  upon  to  act 
as  war-chief,  recent  bereavements  had  caused  Aneeb  to 
withdraw  for  a  time  from  the  villages,  and  to  wander 
with  his  family  alone.  Frank  understood,  therefore, 
the  reason  why  he  found  the  chief  so  far  from  the 
territory  of  his  tribe. 

Familiar  with  Indian  habits,  he  knew  where  to  look 
in  its  darkness  for  the  master  of  the  lodge.  There  sat 
the  chief,  beside  him  his  old  father,  Mukkwah,  the 
Bear.  The  quick,  keen-eyed  old  warrior  smiled ;  even 
the  face  of  Aneeb  brightened,  and  Frank  heard  him 
speak  softly  the  name  the  Indians  had  given  him — 
"  Saggitto ! "  As  he  took  his  seat  in  the  place  of 


The  Deliverer  15 

honour,  Frank  caught  the  sound  of  the  white  girl's 
quickened  breath. 

Aneeb  passed  him  the  pipe,  and  the  three  men 
smoked  in  turn.  A  crouching  form  in  a  dark  corner 
rose  and  stooped  again;  it  was  a  woman,  dried  and 
wiry,  tying  bundles.  A  boy  attended  her ;  the  girl,  too 
agitated  to  work,  stood  waiting  in  the  shadow.  As 
they  smoked,  the  cloud  on  Aneeb's  brow  gradually 
passed.  Frank,  patient,  observant,  watched  till  it  was 
gone.  At  last  the  chief  turned  on  his  visitor  an  open 
countenance.  "  Saggitto  is  welcome,"  he  said. 

The  young  man  saw  that  he  might  speak.  "  Thy 
daughter,  Aneeb.  Where  is  she  ?  " 

The  chief  turned  his  head  toward  Alice.  "  She  died. 
I  have  another  in  her  place." 

The  pipe  came  to  Frank  again.  He  smoked,  then 
passed  it.  "  Know  you  her  true  parents?" 

Aneeb  shook  his  head.  "  I  bought  her  of  Wyandots. 
She  is  my  daughter  now." 

"  By  blood-adoption  ?  " 

The  chief  nodded. 

Again  a  pause.  Blood-adoption  was  a  sacred  cere- 
mony, supposed  to  render  its  object  a  true  Indian. 
Frank  suddenly  felt  doubt.  "  You  will  marry  her  in 
your  tribe  ?  "  he  asked  after  a  moment. 

"  When  she  wishes." 

"The  Panther  was  just  here." 

The  chief's  face  darkened.  "  He  is  persistent.  But 
I  will  never  give  her  to  a  Chippewa." 

"Ay,"  and  Francis  nodded.  "They  killed  your 
brother." 

Aneeb  said  nothing.  The  old  man  spoke,  his  voice 
quavering  with  emotion.  "  My  younger  son.  We  have 
had  blood-gifts,  but  'tis  not  forgotten." 

Silence  again.    While  the  pipe  passed  Frank  waited 


1 6  The  Colonials 

for  memories  to  be  stilled.  "  The  white  man,"  he  said 
at  length,  "  has  always  been  your  friend.  Aneeb,  will 
you  give  her  to  a  white  man? " 

"  To  a  voyageur?  "  asked  Aneeb.  "  To  a  trader?  To 
a  follower  of  the  camp  ? "  His  voice  swelled  with 
contempt. 

"  There  are  good  whites,"  said  the  young  man, 
steadily.  "  You  know  one." 

"  I  know  one,"  said  Aneeb.  He  nodded  to  his  visitor, 
and  Mukkwah,  quick-smiling,  beamed  approval.  They 
apprehended  no  request.  Frank  paused  an  instant,  then 
made  it. 

"Aneeb,  then  give  her  to  me." 

The  chief  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  "  You  will 
marry  her?  " 

"  No.    I  will  take  her  to  her  home." 

Aneeb  smiled.  "  She  is  in  her  home."  He  seemed 
to  dismiss  the  subject. 

One  more  experienced  would  have  stopped  there. 
Frank  himself  was  for  a  moment  checked,  but  he  per- 
sisted. "  Then  let  me  buy  her." 

The  chief  looked  at  him.  "  What  will  you  give  ?  " 
he  asked. 

It  was  far  from  an  eager  question.  The  Indian's  face 
was  calm,  even  indifferent.  "  I  will  give  furs,"  said 
Frank,  and  waited  for  a  comment. 

"  I  have  furs,"  said  Aneeb.  Mukkwah  showed  no 
interest.  Frank  bid  higher. 

"  I  will  give  a  roll  of  cloth,"  he  said.  "  And  two 
good  blankets." 

"  No  more  ?  "  asked  Aneeb  with  scornful  lip,  while 
the  old  man  smiled.  Frank  was  spurred,  and  turned 
in  his  mind  to  those  articles  which  the  Indian  most 
would  love. 

"  I  have  a  small  keg  of  powder,"  he  said.    "  You  shall 


The  Deliverer  17 

have  it.  I  will  give  you  my  best  gun.  Also  two  axes 
and  two  knives."  Mukkwah  turned  and  looked  at  him, 
and  a  change  came  on  the  face  of  Aneeb  himself. 
"  Four  steel  traps,"  went  on  Frank,  "  the  best  the  white 
men  make.  And  a  second  roll  of  cloth." 

Yet  Aneeb  was  not  moved  from  his  calm.  "  Your 
whim  makes  you  eager,"  he  said.  "  But  will  you  give 
gold?" 

Frank  hesitated,  but  only  for  a  moment.  He  reached 
within  his  blouse,  fumbled,  and  drew  a  belt  from  around 
his  body.  He  dropped  it  at  the  feet  of  Aneeb,  and  it 
fell  heavily.  "  Here  is  gold,"  he  said. 

Mukkwah  raised  his  hands  in  surprise,  and  Aneeb. 
for  one  moment,  looked  at  Frank  astonished.  The 
young  man  thought  he  had  succeeded.  But  then  the 
chief  spoke  with  quiet  irony.  "Now  I  see  how  the  white 
man  desires  the  girl.  But  shall  I  sell  my  daughter  ?  " 
He  made  no  further  comment ;  his  dignity  drove  home 
the  rebuke. 

Frank  took  up  the  gold.  They  sat  again  in  silence; 
for  minutes  the  three  did  not  move.  The  pipe  went 
out;  the  woman  and  the  boy  had  ceased  to  work,  and 
were  waiting.  The  strength  of  custom  and  character 
loomed  in  Frank's  view  to  great  proportions.  Indian 
stolidity  seemed  unconquerable ;  the  case  looked  hope- 
less. Only,  in  the  darkest  corner  of  the  hut,  he  knew 
that  the  white  girl  crouched,  waiting  breathless. 

At  length  he  turned  to  the  man  at  his  side,  and 
studied  the  face  of  bronze.  The  Indian  sat  expression- 
less. "  Aneeb,"  said  Frank,  "  you  are  a  father." 

The  chief  gave  assent. 

"  A  father  should  make  his  children  happy.  Is  the 
girl  happy?  " 

"  She  is  content." 

"  Is  she  happy?  " 


1 8  The  Colonials 

Aneeb  shut  his  lips. 

"  If  your  daughter  had  been  separated  from  you, 
could  she  have  been  happy?  Would  she  not  wish,  and 
long,  for  nothing  but  you?" 

Still  Aneeb  said  nothing. 

"  You  know  it,"  said  Francis,  warmly.  "  In  your 
heart  you  know  it.  She  would  call  you  at  night.  She 
would  whisper  to  you  in  the  day.  Her  cheek  would  be 
wet  with  her  tears;  the  bread  of  the  stranger  would  be 
bitter.  Is  it  not  so?  Yet  your  daughter  died.  She  is 
saved  to  you.  She  waits  you  in  the  spirit  land.  Of  that 
you  are  sure.  Therefore,"  said  Frank,  "  of  her  you  are 
at  ease.  Yet  think.  If  she  were  prisoner  to  the  white 
man — what  then?  Could  you  yourself  be  happy;  could 
you  rest  till  you  saw  her  again  ?  You  could  not !  " 

Still  silence.  The  old  man  was  attentive,  but  Aneeb's 
face  had  hardened. 

"  Aneeb,"  said  the  young  man,  "  I  am  not  the  first 
that  has  come  to  you  begging  for  this  girl.  But  I  come 
not  for  myself.  Not  as  the  Panther,  to  make  her  my 
slave.  I  come,  thinking  of  her  father.  He  mourns, 
Aneeb.  He  knows  she  wishes  him.  He  calls  to  God : 
'  Give  her  back! '  If  the  white  man  had  your  daughter, 
you  could  not  rest.  Will  you  keep  his  child  from  him  ?  " 

Aneeb  turned  and  looked  at  Frank ;  searched  his  face, 
as  if  for  motives.  Frank  ceased,  and  suffered  the 
examination.  Long  they  looked  at  one  another. 

The  young  man's  glance  was  firm.  It  pierced  the 
Indian's  look,  and  saw  emotions  stirring  behind  the 
mask.  "  In  my  face,"  he  said  at  last  proudly,  "  you  find 
no  guile.  My  brother,  will  you  keep  the  maiden  weep- 
ing in  your  lodge?  Speak!" 

Aneeb  struggled.  His  eye  avoided  Frank's,  and 
sought  the  ground.  Then  he  glanced  furtively  at  the 
girl.  She  had  crept  closer.  As  Aneeb  looked  at  her 


The  Deliverer  19 

she  broke  across  the  hut,  fell  at  his  feet,  and  clasped 
his  knees — the  suppliant's  position  in  all  ages.  "  Aneeb ! 
Aneeb !  Let  me  go !  " 

The  chief  covered  his  head  with  his  blanket.     Again 
for  a  long  time  there  was  silence  in  the  hut. 


CHAPTER   IV 

"  BY  THE  WHITE  MAN'S  GOD  !  " 

At  length  the  blanket  fell  from  the  head  of  the  chief. 
Aneeb  looked  into  the  face  of  his  visitor.  He  cast  no 
glance  at  the  girl  at  his  feet;  yet  he  laid  his  hand  on 
her  shoulder,  as  if  to  comfort  her.  Frank,  meeting  his 
eye,  saw  no  trace  of  emotion — nothing  but  high  resolve. 

"  She  shall  go,"  said  Aneeb. 

Frank  bowed  his  head  at  the  generous  word,  at  the 
tragic  sound  of  the  voice.  The  old  man  sat  still,  the 
boy  by  the  door  stood  like  a  statue.  But  the  old 
woman,  kneeling  where  she  had  been  at  work,  dropped 
her  face  in  her  hands,  and  began  to  rock  to  and  fro. 

"  She  shall  go,"  repeated  Aneeb.  The  girl  seized  his 
hand  to  caress  it,  but  he  made  no  sign,  not  even  at  the 
touch  of  her  warm  tears.  He  looked  steadily  at  Frank. 
"  Yet  not  with  you  alone.  Detroit  is  far,  and  the  lake 
is  bad  in  autumn.  Your  canoe  is  small.  On  land  the 
way  is  through  the  country  of  the  Chippewa.  She  must 
travel  in  the  boat  of  the  white  soldiers.  You  shall  guide 
them,  lest  they  again  be  foolishly  wrecked.  And  their 
captain  must  promise  to  carry  her  safely." 

"  He  will  take  her  to  Montreal,"  answered  Frank. 

"  And  you,"  said  Aneeb,  "  must  promise  to  take  her 
across  the  great  water  to  her  home." 

Frank  was  taken  aback.  To  go  to  England  meant  to 
give  up  Boston,  for  how  long  he  could  not  say.  His 


The  Deliverer  21 

home,  his  ambition,  must  for  another  painful  while  be 
left. 

The  chief  saw  his  hesitation  and  pressed  him. 
"  Promise !  " 

"  I  promise/'  said  Frank.  His  heart  reproached  him, 
and  he  sighed.  The  Indian,  satisfied,  turned  away. 
"  And,"  added  Frank,  "  to  Aneeb  I  will  send " 

The  chief  raised  his  hand.  "  Nothing ! "  he  said 
sternly. 

Frank  was  silent. 

The  Indian  looked  down  at  the  girl,  and  withdrawing 
his  hand  from  hers,  placed  it  upon  her  head.  His 
feeling,  a  great  sadness,  at  last  looked  from  his  eyes. 
"  One  daughter  I  have  lost,"  he  said.  "  Now  another 
leaves  me.  Bright  bird,  the  lodge  will  be  dark  without 
thee.  The  long  march  will  be  weary,  lorn  of  thy  smile. 
The  evening  of  winter  will  be  colder,  the  north-west 
wind  will  blow  bleaker,  the  deep  snow  will  fall  heavier, 
if  thou  art  not  with  us.  In  plenty,  the  day  will  be 
sadder ;  in  fasting,  how  shall  we  sustain  us  ?  " 

He  ceased,  and  the  wailing  of  the  woman  rose.  The 
girl's  sobs  answered.  The  boy  left  the  door  and  stole 
to  the  darkness  of  the  hut.  Tears  stood  unchecked  in 
Mukkwah's  eyes.  Frank,  moved  by  the  scene,  slipped 
from  his  seat  and  left  the  lodge.  Outside,  he  waited 
until  the  parting  should  be  completed.  Benjy,  noting 
from  a  distance,  drew  near,  but  at  Frank's  signal  came 
not  close. 

At  length  the  chief  came,  the  girl  with  him.  Her 
face  was  downcast,  with  sorrow  and  joy  contending. 
He  was  expressionless.  He  motioned  to  the  camp  of 
the  soldiers. 

"  Lead  me  to  their  chief,"  he  said. 

The  lieutenant  was  standing,  impatiently  switching 
his  boot,  where  the  soldiers  were  mending  the  boats. 


22  The  Colonials 

Occasionally  he  gave  directions,  urging  the  men  10 
haste.  They  were  near  the  sentry-line,  and  Frank, 
approaching,  spoke  across  it.  The  lieutenant  turned, 
and  came  forward  leisurely.  "  Well?  "  he  asked. 

"  Lieutenant,"  said  the  young  man,  "  I  will  guide  you 
to  Detroit." 

The  other,  but  a  few  years  older,  yet  widely  differing 
in  thought  and  habit,  nodded.  "  You  are  wiser." 

"  On  this  condition.  Pay  me  nothing,  but  take  this 
girl  with  you." 

The  others  stood  near;  Benjy  had  edged  close,  but 
the  lieutenant  did  not  look  at  them.  He  surveyed 
Frank  with  a  sneer.  "  What,  can  you  not  guard  your 
own  squaw  ?  " 

"  She  is  no  squaw,"  said  the  colonial.  "  She  is  an 
English  girl." 

The  lieutenant  glanced  lazily  at  the  child ;  then  his 
expression  changed.  A  look  of  knowing  appreciation 
came ;  he  looked  again  at  Frank.  "  Your  eye  is  good. 
Have  you  bought  her?" 

"  No,"  said  the  woodsman  quietly.  "  The  chief  has 
given  her  her  liberty.  I  shall  take  her  to  her  parents." 

The  captain  looked  at  the  girl  again,  appraising  her. 
There  passed  no  glance  from  eye  to  eye,  exchanging 
signs  of  cheer ;  none,  though  she  looked  eagerly.  He 
turned  once  more  to  Frank.  "  You  had  better  keep 
her." 

"  Sir !  "    cried  the  other. 

"  Oh,  rat  your  virtue ; "  drawled  the  lieutenant. 
"  What  is  it  you  wish  me  to  do  ?  " 

"  Take  her  to  Detroit,"  said  Frank.  "  If  you  go  on 
to  Montreal,  take  her  in  your  party.  I  will  guide  you 
the  whole  distance.  At  Montreal  I  will  begin  to  search 
for  her  father." 

The  lieutenant  scarcely  listened.    His  eyes  were  again 


The  Deliverer  23 

on  the  girl.  She  thought  she  saw  in  his  face  the  begin- 
ning of  friendship.  "  Come  here,"  he  said. 

She  stood  before  him,  her  face  gladly  lifted. 

"Who  is  your  father?" 

"  Walter  Tudor,  merchant." 

"  English,  or  provincial?  " 

"  English,  sir.     Our  home  is  in  London." 

"  How  came  you  here  ?  " 

"  Father  came  to  trade,  I  think.  We  were  in  Mon- 
treal; I  think  that  was  the  place.  Then  we  came  up 
the  river.  At  one  camp  I  went  to  pick  berries,  and 
Indians  caught  me.  They  were  Wyandots ;  Aneeb 
bought  me  from  them." 

A  light  was  glittering  in  the  lieutenant's  eye.  "  Will 
you  go  with  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir !  "  she  cried,  her  face  aglow. 

He  turned  to  Frank,  at  last  smiling.  "  She  is  a 
beauty !  Well,  I  will  take  her.  You  mean  her  to  travel 
in  my  care  ?  " 

"  You  promise  her  safe  transit?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Give  your  word,  then,  to  the  chief." 

Aneeb,  following  the  conversation  lamely,  under- 
stood, and  held  out  his  hand.  "  By  the  white  man's 
god !  "  he  said  solemnly. 

The  Englishman  took  his  hand,  but  carelessly.  "  By 
the  white  man's  god,"  he  answered.  His  eye  wandered 
to  the  girl,  and  he  dropped  the  chief's  hand.  "  Come, 
child,"  he  said,  and  turned  away. 

She  threw  herself  into  the  arms  of  Aneeb,  and  kissed 
him  sobbing.  "  Thank  you !  Oh,  thank  you !  "  she 
repeated.  Then  hastily  she  followed  the  officer. 

Twenty  minutes  later  the  little  train  of  Indians 
entered  the  woods.  Alice,  from  the  window  of  the 
lieutenant's  cabin,  watched  them  through  tears.  They 


24  The  Colonials 

were  savages,  but  they  had  been  kind.  The  lieutenant 
seemed  more  tender  than  Aneeb.  But  his  glances — oh, 
she  did  not  know.  New  instincts  made  hei  feel  uneasy. 
Where  was  that  woodsman  who  had  rescued  her? 


CHAPTER  V 

BENJY 

The  little  wary  trapper  was  not  satisfied.  While  Frank 
went  slowly  back  to  his  camp-fire,  deep  in  thought,  Benjy 
strolled  about  the  soldiers'  camp.  From  time  to  time 
he  nodded  to  himself.  The  soldiers'  tents  were  close 
together ;  that  was  good.  To  post  sentries  against  the 
Indians,  even  in  daytime,  was  also  wise.  The  men 
worked  hard  at  the  boats,  even  though  the  officer  was 
not  in  sight — a  sure  sign  that  they  feared  him.  But 
the  lieutenant's  cabin  was  full  ninety  feet  from  the 
nearest  tent,  where,  though  guarded  by  the  stream,  in 
case  of  an  Indian  attack  it  could  easily  be  taken  by 
surprise. 

Benjy  edged  toward  it  by  degrees.  He  wished  to 
know  where  Alice  was,  and  what  the  officer  was  doing. 
On  his  face  he  put  the  look  of  a  Yankee  idler,  open- 
mouthed  and  vacant,  giving  no  sign  of  the  quick  intel- 
ligence that  lay  beneath.  He  saw  the  lieutenant  leave 
the  cabin  and  come  toward  him,  smiling,  but  with 
thoughtful  eyes.  "  He  is  planning,"  thought  Benjy, 
and  touched  his  hat  to  the  spruce  young  fellow. 

"Hey?"  said  the  lieutenant,  sharply.  "Who  are 
you?  Oh,  I  see.  With  the  girl,  eh?" 

"  Not  exactly,  sir,"  grinned  Benjy,  touching  his  cap 
again.  "  Too  old  now,  sir." 


26  The  Colonials 

The  lieutenant  glanced  him  up  and  down,  quickly 
and  keenly.  He  set  his  lips,  and  moved  as  if  to  pass 
on,  but  paused  again,  and  spoke.  "But  once — eh?" 
He  watched  the  old  man  closely. 

"  Eh  ?  eh  ?  "  snickered  Benjy. 

The  lieutenant's  features  relaxed,  and  he  smiled.  "  In 
regard  to  the  girl.  That  fellow  with  you  means  to — eh  ? 
.Of  course  he  has  no  idea  of  giving  her  up?  " 

Benjy  shrugged  cynically.  "  Young  blood,  Lieu- 
tenant." 

"  But  look  here,  then,"  said  the  lieutenant  with 
interest.  "Is  he  particular?  He  likes  money?  He 
can  wait  ?  " 

"  We  all  like  money,  Lieutenant."  Benjy's  cocked 
eye  revealed  depths  of  wordly  wisdom. 

"  Well,"  said  the  lieutenant,  pleased.  "  Here  then." 
He  gave  a  coin.  "  And  another  for  your  friend.  There 
will  be  more  at  the  end  of  the  trip." 

"  Thank  you,  sir."  The  lieutenant  walked  on ;  Benjy 
turned  toward  his  own  camp-fire,  cunningly  smiling  to 
himself.  The  farther  he  went,  the  more  the  look  of 
cunning  gave  room  to  the  lines  of  sober  thought. 
Frank  sat  by  the  fire,  idly  employed  in  casting  sticks 
into  the  stream.  His  smile  to  Benjy  had  a  tinge  of 
sadness. 

"  Good-by  my  plans,"  he  said. 

Benjy  stood  in  front  of  him.  "  Ye  should  have 
thought  of  that  before." 

"  There  was  only  one  thing  to  do,"  said  the  young 
man.  "  But  oh,  I  have  looked  forward  to  meeting 
Dickie  again !  And  the  good  old  town,  and  friends. 
Now  we  are  perhaps  even  going  to  London.  May  I 
find  the  child's  parents  soon !  " 

"  Why  then  did  ye  do  it?  Better  give  her  up  at  once, 
and  perhaps  make  money  instead  of  losing  it." 


The  Deliverer  27 

"Benjy!" 

"  'Tis  advice  from  a  better  judge  than  I,"  said  Benjy. 
"  I  do  but  pass  it  on.  There  are  some  guineas  to  be 
made.  Some  three  or  four." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  asked  the  young  man,  sternly. 

"Why  gave  you  her  to  the  lieutenant?"  broke  out 
the  older,  angrily.  "  Had  ye  no  eyes  ?  " 

"  Twas  Aneeb's  condition.    I  could  not  free  her  else." 

"Have  ye  freed  her?  Think  you  so?  Look  here, 
then."  His  voice  and  action  took  on  more  energy.  He 
laid  the  two  coins  on  his  palm  and  extended  the  hand — 
all  knotted  sinew,  bone,  and  callus — toward  the  other. 

"Two  half-guineas,"  said  Francis.    "Well?" 

"  Where  got  I  them  ?  "  Benjy  cried.  "  Where  got  I 
them?  Who  gave  them  me  just  now?" 

The  young  man  flushed  and  sprang  up.  He  put  a 
hand  on  Benjy's  shoulder,  and  searched  his  face  with 
his  glance.  Benjy  pursed  his  gnarled  face  and  nodded 
grimly.  Frank  turned  away.  "  His  servant  is  coming," 
he  said.  "  Make  sure,  Benjy.  Draw  him  out." 

As  Tabb  approached,  the  woodsmen  were  lolling 
again  by  their  fire.  He  greeted  familiarly :  "  Good  day 
to  you  again."  Cheerfully  answered  Benjy :  "  And  a 
good  day  for  us  all."  Tabb  squatted  by  the  glowing 
coals,  and  began  to  push  pieces  of  wood  into  their 
depths. 

"  So  you're  to  go  with  us  after  all  ?  " 

"  Ay,"  said  Benjy.     "  Are  you  willing?  " 

Tabb  grinned.  "Why  not?  You've  set  fun  afoot, 
and  I  come  in  for  my  profit." 

To  conceal  his  wince,  Frank  turned  his  head  aside, 
but  Benjy  hitched  companionably  forward.  "Hey?" 
he  said.  "  The  lieutenant  pays,  hey  ?  "  He  stretched 
out  a  tough  forefinger  and  prodded  Tabb  in  the  waist. 
His  mouth  opened  wide  in  a  cackle. 


28  The  Colonials 

Tabb  winked  and  chuckled.  "  Pays  ?  Indeed  he  pays. 
What,  have  you  not  something  already?  " 

Benjy  opened  his  hand,  and  showed  the  two  half- 
guineas.  "  Ay,"  he  said,  still  grinning  broadly.  "  Ay." 

Tabb  settled  himself  to  chat.  "  'Twill  be  easier  for 
us  poor  devils  after  this.  His  temper  has  been  short. 
And  he'll  think  better  of  the  woods.  Odds,  but  he  has 
cursed  them !  No  gaming,  he  says,  nor  wine,  nor 
women.  Well,  you've  supplied  him  with  this  last,  and 
the  final  bottle  of  wine  is  to  be  opened  to-night.  I've 
put  it  to  its  neck  in  the  stream  below,  to  cool  it." 

"And  the  girl  pleased  the  lieutenant?" 

"Would  she  not  you?  Odds,  man,  she's  a  beauty. 
Better  than  Spain  or  Portugal  could  give,  he  says.  And 
he's  been  there." 

"  Too  young,"  objected  Benjy. 

"  Nay,"  said  Tabb  sagely. 

"  And  innocent-like." 

"  But  there's  the  wine.  He's  knowing.  Wine's  always 
the  best  way." 

Francis  sat  silent,  but  the  keen  old  man  saw  passion 
in  the  back  that  slightly  moved.  He  knew  his  lad,  and 
laid  a  hand  upon  his  shoulder.  Frank  quieted.  Benjy 
went  on  with  his  talk  to  Tabb. 

"  The  lieutenant's  an  old  hand." 

"  True,"  cried  Tabb.     "  An  early  growth." 

Benjy  laughed  and  nodded,  pushing  Tabb  again  in 
the  ribs.  "  Ay,"  he  said.  "  Ay,  ay."  He  ogled  and 
laughed  again,  pointing  with  his  thumb. 

Tabb  grinned.  "What  is  it?"  he  asked.  "D'ye 
mean  me?  " 

"  You?  "  cried  Benjy.  "  Of  course  I  mean  you.  Man 
and  master  like.  That's  what  I'm  thinking." 

"Well,"  smirked  Tabb.  "Well.  I  say  nothing  of 
that."  The  compliment  tickled  him. 


The  Deliverer  29 

Then  Benjy  sobered.  "  But  do  we,"  he  queried 
earnestly,  "  come  in  for  more,  at  the  end?  " 

"  Ay,"  said  Tabb  easily.  "  Of  course.  Three 
guineas  apiece,  belike,  and  the  lass  herself.  Are  ye 
willing?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Benjy.  "  She'll  be  a  hindrance 
before  long,  hey?  'Tis  the  way.  But  when,  then? 
Montreal  or  Detroit?" 

"  Even  before,"  said  Tabb,  "  it  may  be.  If  you  leave 
the  company  before  we  get  to  Detroit,  will  not  that 
suit  ye?  " 

"  Ay,"  said  Francis,  turning.  "  Before  we  get  to 
Detroit.  Twill  suit  well." 

"  Good  evening  to  ye,  then."    Tabb  went  away. 

Francis  turned  to  the  fire,  and  appeared  to  be  study- 
ing its  glow.  The  deep  gleam  in  his  eyes  seemed  a 
reflection  of  the  ruddy  coals.  Benjy,  since  Frank  said 
nothing,  threw  himself  on  the  ground  and  lay  quiet. 
A  long  while  they  stayed  so.  Slowly  the  sun  sank, 
casting  upon  little  clouds  far  overhead  bright  reflec- 
tions from  the  dolphin  colours  of  the  dying  day.  They 
paled ;  the  sky  grew  cold  blue ;  the  night  was  coming. 
The  soldiers  were  heard  at  their  meal ;  all  work  had 
ceased,  and  merriment  began.  But  while  fires  blazed 
up  brightly  in  the  English  camp,  the  fire  of  the  woods- 
men died  to  ashes. 

Then  Frank  arose  in  the  dusk  and  began  to  gather 
together  the  articles  that  lay  near.  Benjy,  attentive, 
helped.  They  brought  the  canoe  to  the  water's  edge, 
and  laid  their  belongings  within  it.  The  powder  keg, 
the  axes,  and  the  utensils  went  in.  But  the  furs  Frank 
left  lying  where  they  were.  Benjy  whispered  ruefully : 
"  The  black  and  silver  fox  skins?  " 

It  was  only  a  little  bale,  and  worth  a  woodsman's 
fortune.  But  Frank  thrust  it  under  a  bush.  "  Not  an 


30  The  Colonials 

extra  pound,"  he  said.  They  put  into  the  canoe  their 
blankets,  then  Francis  laid  his  rifle  in.  Benjy  hesitated 
to  relinquish  his. 

"  No,"  said  Frank  again  with  decision.  "  Only  our 
hangers."  He  looked  to  the  lake,  then  up  the  little 
river,  glimmering  in  the  last  light.  "  You  know  whither 
the  stream  leads,  Benjy?" 

"Ay." 

Francis  pointed  to  the  cabin.  There  was  a  light 
within  it.  "  Quietly  now !  "  he  whispered.  His  words 
were  as  the  breath  of  the  wind.  Quietly  the  two  stole 
toward  the  soldiers'  camp. 


CHAPTER   VI 

"  WHAT   WE   ARE   ABOUT    TO    RECEIVE  " 

Alice  still  waited  in  the  cabin.  As  the  day  drew  to 
a  close,  strange  feelings  came  upon  her.  She  did  not 
understand  the  vague  fears  that  rose  within  her  breast ; 
she  knew  that  she  dreaded  something.  Then  she  chided 
herself.  She  was  with  her  own  people  at  last ;  should 
she  be  afraid  now?  And  of  what? 

She  saw  the  lieutenant  walking  by  the  shore,  up  and 
clown.  Behind  him  the  sunset  colours  were  gradually 
fading.  She  watched  him,  and  the  fascination  of  a 
continued  wonder  grew  upon  her.  Why  was  he  so  kind 
to  her,  so  strangely  kind?  He  turned  and  began  to 
walk  toward  the  cabin,  and  she  withdrew  hastily  into 
the  shadow. 

He  came  to  the  door  and  called  her  to  him.  With  a 
hand  beneath  her  chin  he  turned  her  face  up  to  his.  He 
read  her  countenance,  seeing  not  her  innocence  and 
sweetness,  but  beauty  and  all  flesh  delights.  But  some- 
thing shone  on  her  cheek,  and  he  asked  in  surprise : 
"You  have  been  weeping?  Are  you  longing  for 
savagery?  " 

"  Oh  no,  sir,"  she  answered.  "  But  they  have  been  so 
kind !  " 

"And  I?    Am  I  not  kind?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  she  replied.     "  Oh,  yes  !  " 


32  The  Colonials 

"  Then  forget  those  Indians.  Shall  you  not  see  your 
father  soon  ?  " 

At  the  words  her  eyes  sparkled,  and  she  gave  him 
thanks;  but  finding  he  still  held  her  she  made  a  little 
bashful  movement  to  release  herself.  He  let  her  go, 
and  she  shrank  back  to  a  seat  by  the  window.  Then 
he  called  Tabb,  and  ordered  candles  and  the  supper. 

Tabb  came  with  the  candle  box  and  a  burning  pine 
splinter.  He  lit  the  candles,  sticking  them  on  projec- 
tions of  the  logs,  with  an  eye  to  safety  and  economy. 
"  Plenty  of  candles !  "  ordered  the  lieutenant,  striding 
up  and  down.  Tabb  lighted  more  candles,  till  the  dark 
place  was  bright.  Then  he  brought  the  meal. 

It  was  all  strange  to  the  child  who  watched.  Pleasure 
grew  as  she  saw  familiar  things.  The  candles  first  gave 
her  a  thought  of  home,  and  as  she  looked  about  the 
cabin  she  realised  that  once  more  she  was  in  a  house. 
There  was  a  real  table,  though  but  slats  across  trestles ; 
there  were  stools ;  she  need  no  longer  sit  upon  the 
ground.  There  were  dishes,  no  more  bowls  or  bark ; 
knives  and  forks  were  there,  and  even  napkins.  When 
she  saw  these  last  she  could  not  keep  from  smiling. 

Then  she  saw  the  meaning  glances  of  the  men,  and 
flushed.  The  coarse,  bold  servant  and  the  smiling 
master  cast  upon  her  an  undefined  oppression.  Her 
eyes  sank  to  the  ground,  but  she  was  lovely  even  so, 
and  the  lieutenant  watched  her  still. 

Tabb  brought  the  smoking  meal.  The  officer  un- 
clasped his  belt  and  hung  it  on  a  peg.  "  Tabb,"  he 
said ;  "  remove  the  sentry  from  this  end  of  the  line — tell 
the  sergeant  to  have  it  done.  See  that  none  of  the 
men  come  near.  Wait  till  I  ask  for  the  wine,  and  then — 
keep  away  from  here  yourself !  " 

The  servant  saluted,  and  went  out.  His  master  in- 
vited the  girl.  "  Will  you  come  to  the  table,  Alice?  " 


The  Deliverer  33 

Alice  was  a  lass  of  wit ;  her  spirits  rose,  and  her 
confidence  came  back.  She  seated  herself  as  a  lady 
should,  and  looked  demurely  at  the  lieutenant.  "  We 
have  no  chaplain.  Will  you  say  grace,  sir?" 

He  stared.  \Vas  this  a  trader's  daughter?  But  he 
seated  himself  quickly,  clasped  his  hands,  and  bowed 
his  head  above  his  plate.  "  For  all  that  we  are  about  to 
receive — "  he  began,  and  finished  the  blessing  without 
mistake. 

For  all  that  we  are  about  to  receive !  His  eye 
gleamed  as  he  watched  her.  Tabb,  returning,  passed 
the  food.  She  helped  herself,  and  ate  daintily.  Smiling, 
she  spoke  easily,  yet  earnestly :  "  Lieutenant,  for  this 
meal  and  your  protection  I  thank  you."  Earnestly, 
yet  easily,  as  one  that  has  seen  society.  He  answered 
with  the  air  of  the  companion  of  Fox,  and  modestly 
disclaimed  all  thanks. 

For  all  that  we  are  about  to  receive !  She  pleased 
him  more  and  more.  If  she  were  cultured,  so  much  the 
better.  He  need  not  leave  her  at  Detroit ;  in  London 
she  would  be  an  ornament.  To  support  a  mistress 
would  be  costly  on  his  present  pay;  yet  once  a  captain, 
and  with  the  allowance  from  his  uncle — why,  it  could  be 
done !  His  heart  began  to  beat  joyously.  "  Alice,  you 
shall  go  to  London  ! "  he  cried,  and  then  loudly :  "  Tabb, 
the  wine !  " 

Tabb  brought  the  opened  bottle,  and  took  from  their 
mahogany  case  the  glasses.  Then,  obeying  his  master's 
look,  he  joined  his  fellow-soldiers  at  the  fire. 

'  'Tis  wine  of  France,"  said  the  lieutenant,  as  he 
filled  her  glass.  "  Alice,  you  must  know  that  officers 
on  the  march  cannot  always  have  the  best.  Would  this 
were  better !  And  now,  little  one,  drink  to  our  return." 

But  with  recurring  disquiet  she  shrank  from  the  wine. 
"  I — I  would  rather  not,  sir." 


34  The  Colonials 

"And  why  not?" 

"  Father  would  seldom  let  me  take  it.  'Tis  not  for 
girls,  he  said." 

"  But  this  is  a  rare  occasion,  and  I  am  a  good  friend. 
Am  I  not  ?  "  He  touched  her  hand  across  the  narrow 
table.  l<  To  please  me,  Alice,  drink  !  " 

She  withdrew  her  hand  from  his,  and  avoided  the 
glance  of  his  eager  eyes.  He  looked  at  her  persistently. 
"  Surely,"  she  said,  "  not  first  to  our  return.  First  to 
the  king." 

"  To  the  king,  then,"  he  said.     "  Drink,  little  one." 

She  took  up  the  glass ;  he  drank,  she  sipped.  "  And 
now  to  our  return,"  he  urged.  Again  the  wine  passed 
her  lips. 

The  wine  warmed  him,  but  she  more  than  the  wine. 
He  looked  at  her  constantly,  strangely ;  he  leaned 
toward  her,  and  his  breath  came  in  her  face.  They  fin- 
ished eating.  He  pushed  both  plates  away,  and  begged 
her  to  drink  more.  To  the  queen ;  she  could  not  refuse 
to  toast  the  queen.  Again  she  sipped,  and  next  must 
drink  to  the  prince  royal.  "  But  you  will  have  me  toast 
all  the  royal  family !  "  she  cried,  protesting  her  dismay. 
To  please  him,  she  looked  arch.  To  placate  the  in- 
sistence which  she  did  not  understand,  she  smiled  and 
appeared  attentive.  He  grew  talkative  and  spoke  of 
many  things,  of  London  most  of  all,  with  its  sights,  its 
people,  its  great  houses,  its  great  men. 

She  knew  London,  and  its  great  men.  "  Doctor 
Johnson,"  she  asked.  "Do  you  know  Doctor  Johnson?" 

He  looked  blank.  "  No,  who  is  he  ?  A  writer,  eh  ? 
Oh,  great  men  are  not  of  that  sort.  The  Duke  of 
Grafton  is  a  great  man,  and  young  Fox,  and  Bedford 
who  hates  him,  and  Rigby.  But  you  know  London, 
Alice.  To  London !  Drink  to  London !  "  He  took 
her  wrist  and  tried  to  lift  her  glass  to  her  lips. 


The  Deliverer  35 

"  But  you  have  drunk  too  much,  sir,  already,"  she 
said,  and  shifted  her  glass  to  her  other  hand.  It  was 
herself,  and  not  the  wine,  that  intoxicated  him ;  but  she 
could  not  distinguish.  She  knew  not  what  to  do,  but 
smiled  prettily  in  the  face  of  the  heated  man.  "  There- 
fore let  me  leave  you.  Will  you  call  your  servant  to 
show  me  where  I  may  sleep  ?  " 

"Sleep?"  he  said.  "Not  yet.  Ah,  Alice!  little 
Alice  !  Go  not  yet.  Come,  drink  once  more !  " 

"  Lieutenant,  let  me  go,"  she  begged. 

"  Lieutenant  ?  "  he  repeated,  low  and  tenderly.  He 
moved  around  the  table  to  her  side.  "  Henry  is  my 
name.  To  you  I  have  no  title.  Call  me  Henry." 

"  Henry,  then,"  she  answered.    "  But  pray  let  me  go." 

"  Drink  first,"  he  urged.  "  You  must  drink."  As  she 
did  not  move  he  seized  her  wrist  again,  to  lift  her  hand. 

The  fear  in  her  eyes  did  not  shame  him ;  she  was 
beautiful  even  in  her  fright.  Her  lips  parted ;  she  re- 
sisted him,  panting.  "  Please,  please !  "  she  begged,  but 
he  used  force.  As  still  she  resisted,  the  wine  was  spilled. 
He  released  her  hand;  she  set  the  glass  down,  and  en- 
deavouring to  move  away,  raised  her  napkin.  "  Give  it 
me,"  he  said,  and  took  it  from  her.  He  brushed  the 
drops  from  her  bodice,  as  she  sat  trembling.  "  But 
there  is  some  on  your  throat."  He  caught  her  by  the 
waist,  and  bending  his  head,  tried  to  kiss  it  away. 

A  voiceless  terror  came  upon  her.  She  struggled, 
gasping.  Was  no  one  near?  Could  she  not  scream? 
His  head  was  near  to  hers ;  he  crushed  her  closer,  and 
suddenly  darting,  kissed  her  throat. 

She  shivered  at  the  touch  of  his  lips.  Then  she  sat 
quiet.  He  marked  it  with  triumph.  He  pressed  his  lips 
firmer  against  the  soft  skin.  As  still  she  sat  motionless, 
his  delight  increased.  "  She  is  mine !  " 


36  The  Colonials 

A  heavy  hand  fell  on  his  shoulder.  He  sprang  up- 
right. 

The  young  woodsman,  his  guide,  was  leaning  across 
the  table,  his  arm  still  extended.  Behind  him  was  the 
older  man.  And  Alice  sat  with  a  face  of  heavenly  relief. 
The  young  hunter  drew  himself  erect ;  there  was  a  grim 
smile  on  his  face,  a  grim  tone  in  his  voice,  as  he  spoke : 
"  Your  pardon,  Lieutenant." 

Blood  rushed  into  the  officer's  face.  "  You  rascal," 
he  cried.  "  Leave  the  cabin !  Speak  to  the  sergeant  if 
you  want  anything." 

"  I  want  something  here,"  said  the  woodsman. 

The  Londoner  threw  a  coin  upon  the  table.  "  Be- 
gone !  "  he  said.  "  To-morrow  will  do.  And  never 
enter  this  place  without  knocking." 

"  Never  again."  Frank  motioned  to  Alice.  "  Come," 
he  said. 

"  Alice,"  cried  the  lieutenant.     "  Remain !  " 

"  Take  her,  Benjy,"  said  Frank.    "  I  will  follow." 

Benjy  reached  out  to  take  her  hand.  She  moved  with 
averted  face  past  the  lieutenant,  to  meet  him.  "Louts  !" 
exclaimed  the  Englishman,  haughtily  and  confidently. 
"  I  will  pay  you."  He  snatched  from  the  table  a  pointed 
knife,  and  struck  Benjy  under  the  arm. 

"  Ah !  "  said  the  old  man — once,  and  once  again. 

Furious,  Frank  caught  with  naked  hands  at  the 
lieutenant.  But  he,  withdrawing  the  knife,  struck  again 
with  the  bloody  blade.  Frank  could  save  himself  only 
by  leaping  back.  The  lieutenant  turned  to  his  sword 
upon  the  wall. 

Frank  grasped  at  his  own  hanger :  the  scabbards 
grated  as  the  blades  flew  out.  The  officer  lunged;  the 
other  parried.  Struck  violently  by  both  weapons,  the 
table  tottered ;  then  with  its  weight  of  dishes  it  fell  with 
a  crash  between  the  men. 


The  Deliverer  37 

Benjy  leaned  against  the  wall,  breathing  quickly. 
Alice,  with  wide  eyes,  watched  the  two  fighters.  The 
woodsman  attacked  the  soldier.  Frank  bestrode  the 
debris  of  the  table  and  pressed  on  the  lieutenant ;  steel 
clashed,  sparks  flew.  The  Englishman's  face  was  red, 
the  colonial's  pale ;  the  eyes  of  both  gleamed  with 
anger.  The  fight  was  edge  against  point.  The  lieuten- 
ant thrust  twice ;  the  other  parried,  and  pushed  forward 
with  determination.  Once  at  close  quarters  the  lieuten- 
ant saw  his  long  weapon  would  be  useless ;  he  gave 
ground,  and  thrust  again.  Another  parry ;  he  found 
himself  at  the  wall.  He  lunged.  The  other,  coming 
forward  recklessly,  his  moments  precious,  parried  with 
force.  The  sword  was  wrenched  to  one  side.  Francis 
rushed  within  guard,  and  cut  the  officer  on  the  temple. 
Man  and  sword  fell  clattering. 

Frank  turned,  and  sprang  to  the  old  man's  side. 
"  We  must  go.  We  have  scant  time.  Alice,  I  will  carry 
him.  Follow  you  close." 

Too  late?  A  form  filled  the  entrance.  Alice  darted 
toward  it  eagerly.  "  Aneeb  !  " 

The  Indian  cast  a  glance  of  hatred  at  the  young  man. 
"  So  you  fight  for  her  already !  "  He  caught  the  girl's 
hand  and  disappeared  with  her  in  the  darkness.  Frank 
lifted  Benjy  to  his  shoulder  and  sought  to  follow.  They 
were  gone. 

It  was  too  late  to  hesitate.  The  camp  was  alarmed. 
Soldiers,  bearing  torches,  were  coming  with  shouts.  He 
ran  around  the  cabin  and  hastened  with  his  burden  to 
the  canoe. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  KNOLL  AMONG  PINES 

The  canoe  slipped  noiselessly  into  the  night ;  there 
was  no  pursuit.  Confusion  reigned  at  the  camp;  when 
the  sergeant  found  his  wits  the  fugitives  w.ere  already 
far  away.  On  the  embowered  stream  the  canoe  sped 
silently  for  miles. 

Benjy  lay  in  the  bottom  of  the  canoe,  noting  the 
landmarks  at  Frank's  description.  "  You'll  come  soon," 
he  said  at  last,  speaking  with  difficulty,  "  on  a  great 
rock.  Beyond  that — a  little  creek.  Turn  in  there." 

The  rock  showed,  black  in  the  grey  night.  Beyond  it, 
Frank  turned  the  nose  of  the  canoe  into  the  smaller 
stream.  It  grew  narrower  and  shallower;  before  long 
he  stepped  out,  and  wading,  drew  the  canoe  after  him. 
The  creek  at  last  became  a  mere  rocky  bed.  "  Lift  me 
out,"  said  Benjy. 

Above  them  rose  a  knoll,  crowned  by  great  pines. 
Frank  carried  the  old  man  up  the  ascent,  and  set  him 
down  at  the  foot  of  a  tree.  The  sky  was  scarcely  visible  ; 
where  they  stood  the  ground  was  in  blackness.  He 
went  for  the  axe,  and  sought  a  torch.  Before  long  the 
blaze  of  a  pitch-knot  shone  on  the  old  man's  face. 

Benjy  lay  quiet,  holding  with  one  hand  a  cloth  to  his 
side.  His  wrinkled  face  was  pale ;  on  his  features  was 
no  expression  of  pain,  but  one  of  peace.  He  looked 
up  calmly  as  Francis  knelt  beside  him.  "  Tis  the  end, 


The  Deliverer  39 

lad,"  he  said.  "  Tis  slow  but  sure ;  I  feel  it  coming. 
Frank,  ye'll  be  sorry  to  part  from  me?" 

''  Oh,  Benjy!  "  Frank  bent  lower,  and  clasped  in  his 
hands  the  other's  head.  Tears  fell,  and  mingled  with 
those  that  came  from  the  old  man's  eyes.  But  they 
were  the  last  that  Benjy  shed. 

"  Lad,  attend,"  he  said.  "  I  have  somewhat  to  say, 
and  short  time." 

"  I  listen,  Benjy." 

"Tell  Ann—."  The  old  man  paused.  "There's 
nothing  to  say.  Her  brother's  dead." 

"  No  message?  " 

"  We  shall  meet  again  soon." 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment  as  the  old  man  rested. 
Then  he  roused  himself  again.  "  My  love  to  Dickie,"  he 
said.  "  I'm  sorry  I  could  not  teach  him  sword  play,  as 
I  taught  you.  But  oh,  lad,  I  was  proud  of  you  to-night. 
When  he  fell,  his  head  cleft— 

"  I  did  not  kill  him,"  said  Frank. 

"  Not  kill  him  ?  " 

"  There  was  too  little  space  for  striking,  what  with 
'the  corner  and  the  roof.  'Twas  but  a  wrist  stroke. 
Yet  I  have  marked  him.  God  give  me  to  meet  him 
again !  " 

"  Then  spare  him  not !  "  cried  Benjy.  "  Remember — " 
His  voice  suddenly  sank. 

"  Benjy !  "  cried  Frank,  apprehensive. 

"  Not  yet,"  said  the  old  man,  with  an  effort.  "  Frank, 
one  more  thing.  Dig  me  a  grave.  Dig  it  now." 

Francis  obeyed.  With  his  axe  he  cut  wood,  and 
shaped  himself  a  rough  strong  spade.  He  laid  back 
with  it  the  mat  of  pine  needles,  and  came  upon  the  light, 
moist  loam.  Then  he  began  his  task,  rapidly  making 
a  pit  near  the  old  man,  measuring  it  with  his  eye.  He 
threw  out  the  dirt.  Where  roots  interfered  he  cut  them 


40  The  Colonials 

with  his  axe.  With  no  word,  panting  in  haste,  he 
worked  to  please  his  old  companion,  and  marvelled  to 
find  himself  digging  a  grave  for  a  man  yet  living.  Upon 
him  at  his  work  the  flaring  torch,  upright  in  the  ground, 
cast  its  broad  light.  Benjy  lay  watching.  From  the 
branches  and  thickets  the  tiny  wild  things,  roused  by 
the  noise  and  the  light,  looked  and  wondered.  Birds 
chirped,  then  slept  again. 

"  Tis  enough,"  said  Benjy  avt  last.  Frank  was  waist- 
deep.  "  Leave  off,  and  come  to  me." 

Frank  came  and  knelt  again.  Benjy  took  in  his  hands 
the  young  man's,  warm  from  their  toil.  A  look  of 
pleasure  glimmered  on  the  old  face.  "  'Tis  well  done  of 
you,  lad.  I  shall  lie  in  a  grave." 

"  Fear  not  of  that." 

"  I  have  feared,"  said  Benjy,  "  to  die  alone.  And 
then  to  lie  unburied — to  be  sniffed  at  by  the  deer — 
eaten  by  foxes — to  rot  above  ground!  Ay — I  have 
feared.  But  not  now.  And  an  Ellery  is  with  me !  I 
have  always  served  the  Ellerys,  Frank.  Your  grand- 
father, the  smuggler — your  father,  the  merchant — and 
now  you.  I  have  served  all  three." 

"  And  served  well.    Benjy,  shall  I  pray?  " 

"  Not  yet,"  he  said  staunchly.  "  There's  no  time.  Lad, 
listen.  Ye'll  leave  this  matter  of  the  white  girl.  Aneeb 
was  angry,  misunderstanding.  He  will  never  give  her 
up  again.  Go  you  to  Boston ;  to  follow  her  is  useless. 
Leave  Detroit  wide ;  make  for  Albany.  None  will 
remember  the  matter  of  a  wounded  lieutenant.  Give 
up  the  girl,  and  go  home." 

"  Benjy !  " 

"  Think  of  your  brother  Dickie.  He's  nearly  twenty 
now,  with  your  uncle  there  to  plague  him.  He  needs 
you,  be  sure.  And  what  is  your  uncle  doing  all  the 


The  Deliverer  41 

while,  with  the  property  and  the  business?  Dickie 
could  not  be  strong  against  him,  as  you  were." 

"  No,"  agreed  Francis,  sadly.  "  But  Benjy,  how  can 
I  leave  the  girl  ?  " 

Benjy's  voice  grew  stronger.  "  If  you  go  not,  Frank, 
you  go  to  danger.  I'm  dying,  lad.  You've  heard  the 
dying  see  clearly.  Men  will  fight  over  the  girl ;  she  was 
born  for  a  bone  of  contention."  He  raised  his  head, 
looking  into  Frank's  face  with  eyes  that  burned,  and 
finished  his  warning  in  a  voice  of  energy.  "  Your  grave 
will  be  dug  in  the  wilderness,  Frank,  if  ye  follow  her 
into  the  woods  !  " 

He  sank  back,  panting,  and  his  eyes  closed.  "Frank," 
he  gasped,  "  your  hand.  Pray — now  !  " 

They  clasped  hands.  Frank  prayed.  "Our  Father — " 
But  no  more.  Benjy  died. 

There  was  scant  time  for  mourning.  Frank  buried 
Benjy  in  his  cloak,  forcing  across  the  pit,  as  he  filled  it, 
round  spikes  from  the  boles  of  the  pines,  that  no  beast 
should  dig.  When  the  grave  was  finished  and  made 
smooth  he  laid  over  it  again  the  needle-carpet  he  had 
first  turned  back.  The  remaining  earth  he  cast  away; 
the  ground  was  as  if  undisturbed. 

Then  he  went  to  the  canoe,  took  from  it  everything, 
made  up  a  pack,  and  hid  in  bushes  what  he  did  not 
want.  The  canoe  itself  he  thrust  into  a  thicket.  Then, 
as  he  stood  once  more  by  the  grave,  the  light  of  the  pine 
knot  failed,  and  he  was  left  in  darkness. 

Alone  by  the  grave  he  sat  the  night  through.  Be- 
neath the  earth,  where  lay  his  hand,  was  his  companion 
of  three  years.  Elsewhere,  in  the  same  forests,  were 
fleeing  the  Indians  and  the  white  girl.  Far,  far  away 
was  his  native  town,  peaceful  on  its  peninsula,  mirrored 
in  his  mind  as  last  he  saw  it.  There  were  his  friends, 
his  home,  his  brother.  He  yearned  for  them. 


42  The  Colonials 

And  then  he  struggled.  What  was  a  girl,  first  seen 
on  that  day,  to  his  ambition?  How  could  she  weigh 
against  the  brother  that  needed  him?  Against  the  plan 
of  his  life?  Could  he  even  find  her?  There  was  a 
chance  he  might  find  her  at  once,  but  if  not,  what  then  ? 
The  country  of  the  Pottawottomies  was  far  away,  the 
tribe  lived  scattered.  He  might  wander  for  a  year,  and 
never  hear  news  of  her.  If  found,  could  he  save  her? 
Aneeb  had  been  angry :  he  was  stubborn,  and  his  people 
were  fierce.  Benjy  spoke  truly  of  danger. 

Then  again  rose  up  in  his  mind  the  picture  of  his 
home.  The  quiet  town,  the  friendly  houses,  the  familiar 
streets,  drew  him  toward  them.  The  faces  of  his  friends 
appeared  before  him;  he  heard  them  speak.  The  dear 
old  gloomy  house  took  shape,  and  he  walked  in  its 
ancient  rooms.  The  busy  ropewalks  which  he  loved 
called  to  him  across  a  thousand  miles.  Sitting  there  in 
the  night,  picture  after  picture  came  to  him,  until  at 
last  he  threw  himself  on  the  ground  and  cried  aloud 
to  God  for  guidance  in  his  trouble. 

The  dawn  came,  and  still  he  lay.  The  sky  gradually 
paled.  The  tops  of  the  trees  showed  in  sharp  outline 
while  yet  it  was  dark  below.  Light  stole  in  among  the 
branches,  and  at  last  upon  the  ground  objects  were 
distinct.  Then  Frank  rose,  with  weary  but  calm  face. 
He  took  his  gun  and  axe  and  pack,  and  studied  the  sun. 
Detroit  was  to  the  southeast.  He  looked  in  its  direction 
long,  then  turned  with  a  sigh  and  began  his  march  into 
the  wilderness. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE   LITTLE   DRUM    OF   THE    METAI 

There  closed  a  great  blankness  around  Alice.  A  year 
she  had  spent  in  the  woods,  had  been  alert,  learned,  and 
suffered  bravely.  Then  came  hope,  and  was  snatched 
away.  The  tall  young  woodsman  with  determined  face 
had  been  a  living  link  with  home,  a  visible  promise  of 
return.  Suddenly  he  was  gone.  She  was  again  swal- 
lowed up  in  the  vast  wilderness,  with  savages  for  com- 
panions, and  with  England,  father,  brother,  once  more 
denied  her.  She  saw  the  second  winter  closing  in. 

Her  perceptions  dulled.  She  knew  that  they  came 
to  a  stream,  and  travelled  some  days  in  a  canoe ;  that 
when  the  stream  joined  with  another  and  flowed  west 
they  went  ashore.  With  her  load  on  her  shoulders, 
bent  beneath  its  weight,  she  plodded  again  through 
the  forest.  She  lost  count  of  the  days.  Bewildered  at 
God's  purpose,  her  mind  began  to  be  confused.  She 
could  take  no  part  in  the  Indian  merriment.  Oppression 
began  to  obscure  the  processes  of  her  mind.  She  ate, 
drank,  spoke  mechanically,  a  little  stupidly. 

There  began  the  period  of  nightly  frosts.  One  morn- 
ing the  old  man  was  lame ;  on  the  next  he  was  stiff  with 
rheumatism.  On  the  next  the  old  woman  had  to  rub 
his  knees  before  he  could  rise  to  walk.  As  the  night 
cold  increased,  the  distance  he  could  walk  by  day  grew 
less.  Their  progress  was  steadily  slower ;  and  the  Pot- 


44  The  Colonials 

»* 

tawottomi  country  was  still  far  away.  But  Aneeb  was 
not  troubled;  he  preferred  to  live  alone.  In  villages 
were  quarrels,  and  in  winter  starvation.  He  began  to 
look  about  for  a  suitable  place  to  camp. 

They  came  into  a  district  of  great  trees,  black  growth. 
The  ground  had  many  hollows  and  ridges ;  here  and 
there  were  ponds  and  streams.  It  was  a  beautiful 
region,  but  Aneeb  shook  his  head.  The  old  man,  bent 
with  pain,  said  also:  "  We  must  go  further." 

That  night  was  the  coldest  of  all,  with  a  little  snow. 
In  the  day  they  travelled,  perhaps  a  few  miles.  The  old 
man  was  nearly  helpless ;  it  was  difficult  for  him  to  drag 
himself  along.  Aneeb,  carrying  his  father's  burden, 
endeavoured  to  cheer  him.  "  A  little  more,  my  father. 
When  more  snow  comes,  I  will  draw  you  on  a  sledge." 
At  noon  they  sat  and  ate,  near  a  little  stream,  where 
they  cut  ice  to  get  water.  It  was  the  edge  of  a  swamp, 
full  of  pools,  with  great  trees  standing  dead.  Their 
broken  tops  and  peeling  bark,  the  ice  and  snow  and 
dried  grass  at  their  feet,  made  the  vistas  through  them 
desolate  and  mournful. 

They  had  sat  a  half-hour,  when  something  stirred 
nearby.  Aneeb  turned  for  his  gun  :  "  An  elk !  "  The 
animal  came  in  sight,  walking  down  to  the  stream.  He 
stamped  at  the  ice,  broke  it,  and  began  to  drink.  Aneeb 
shot  from  where  he  sat,  and  the  elk  fell.  The  old 
woman  smiled,  for  they  needed  more  food.  Aneeb^went 
to  cut  the  animal's  throat. 

They  watched  him  draw  his  knife  and  bend  over  the 
elk.  The  point  entered  the  skin ;  the  beast  was  roused 
by  the  pain,  and  leaped  up,  striking  with  frantic  forefeet 
at  the  man  so  near  him.  Aneeb  fell;  the  elk  dashed 
away  into  the  forest.  Breathless  with  horror,  they 
heard  the  noise  of  his  passage  grow  less  and  less,  and 
saw  that  Aneeb  lay  motionless. 


The  Deliverer  45 

They  drew  the  chief  from  the  ice  and  laid  him  on 
blankets.  He  uttered  no  complaint,  but  his  lips  were 
white.  His  mother  bent  over  him.  "  Is  the  pain  great?" 

He  answered :     "  It  is  not  myself,  but  for  you." 

She  looked  around  her  in  the  lonely  woods,  and 
understood.  Their  lives  depended  upon  his  strength — 
and  his  thigh  was  broken. 

They  saw  the  danger,  all  of  them.  The  men  and  boy 
accepted  it  as  Indians  should,  with  fatalism,  uncom- 
plaining. Xetnokwa,  the  old  woman,  had  the  privilege 
of  complaint,  but  she  was  the  descendant  of  chiefs.  And 
to  the  English  girl  came  the  courage  of  her  people.  The 
cloud  lifted  from  Alice's  brain.  She  fell  to  work  with 
the  rest. 

From  bushes  they  cut  poles,  and  built  a  lodge 
around  Aneeb  where  he  lay.  The  old  man  dragged  the 
bundles  to  the  door ;  the  woman  and  children  went  for 
firewood.  Around  the  fire  they  sat ;  the  old  woman 
got  out  the  store  of  food.  Indians  are  never  provident ; 
by  the  smallest  of  rations  there  was  not  food  to  last 
them  for  a  day.  When  darkness  came  they  ate,  and 
laid  themselves  to  sleep.  Aneeb,  with  his  leg  rudely 
bandaged,  lay  in  pain  all  night. 

The  fire  went  out ;  the  cold  of  winter  came  that  night 
in  a  terrible  wave.  In  the  morning  Alice  first  of  all 
went  to  gather  wood,  dragging  it  with  numb  fingers 
from  under  the  thin  snow.  Netnokwa  made  the  fire ; 
they  ate  the  last  food.  Then  the  woman  warmed  a  little 
grease,  and  began  to  rub  the  joints  of  her  husband. 
"  To-day,  Mukkwah,"  she  said,  "  thou  must  prove  thy- 
self a  hunter."  When  the  sun  was  high  he  tottered 
out  with  his  gun. 

He  went  away  from  the  lodge,  painfully,  a  half-mile. 
The  cold  was  so  great  that  his  slow  motions  could  not 
keep  him  warm.  Stiffer  he  grew,  more  and  more 


46  The  Colonials 

helpless,  until  at  last  he  leaned  against  a  tree,  and 
waited.  There,  hours  later,  the  woman  found  him.  He 
smiled  patiently  and  shook  his  head.  On  her  back  she 
carried  his  wasted  body  to  the  lodge,  then  sent  her 
grandson  for  the  gun,  telling  him  to  hunt.  Through 
the  afternoon  Kewadin  wandered  vainly,  finding  in  the 
snow  tracks  in  plenty,  but  no  game. 

On  the  morrow  the  boy  went  out  again.  An  hour, 
and  they  heard  his  gun.  But  he  did  not  return.  An- 
other hour,  and  he  fired  again.  "  He  missed  the  first 
time,"  said  Netnokwa.  "  Perhaps  this  time  he  has  hit." 
Still  he  did  not  return.  The  day  dragged  on,  until  at 
sunset  the  lad  came  back,  staggering  in  at  the  door, 
foredone  with  fatigue.  He  brought  nothing. 

Alice  had  helped  Netnokwa  with  the  fire  and  the 
gathering  of  wood.  That  night  she  slept  fitfully,  her 
hunger  waking  her.  She  dreamed  of  food,  woke,  and 
wept  in  silence.  The  morning  came,  and  the  woman 
gave  the  gun  into  the  boy's  hands  with  a  charge : 
"  This  day,  remember  thou  art  the  son  of  Aneeb."  He 
went  forth  proudly,  but  soon  his  steps  dragged. 

At  the  lodge  Alice  and  Xetnokwa  gathered  wood, 
fed  the  fire,  and  listened  constantly.  They  stood  minutes 
at  a  time,  but  they  heard  no  sound  fr'om  the  boy's  gun. 
Noon  passed,  the  afternoon  crawled  along.  Toward 
night  the  woman  became  alarmed,  and  went  out  on  the 
trail  of  her  grandson.  Alice,  left  alone  with  the  two 
helpless  men,  fed  with  small  sticks  the  little  fire,  and 
waited  anxiously.  At  last  the  woman  came  back,  an 
hour  after  dusk.  In  her  arms  she  bore  the  senseless 
boy.  Quickly  the  two  made  a  greater  fire ;  the  woman 
took  moccasins  and  boiled  them.  As  they  could  they 
ate  the  tough  mass ;  with  its  soup  they  brought  Kewadin 
to  consciousness.  For  a  while  Alice  felt  restored,  but 
again  she  passed  the  night  in  distress. 


The  Deliverer  47 

The  woman  was  the  strongest  of  all.  In  the  morning 
she  brought  wood,  and  again  cooked  deerskin.  Alice, 
though  she  helped,  could  not  touch  the  food ;  the  boy, 
continually  fainting,  was  unable  to  eat.  The  men  lay 
in  silence  throughout  the  day.  Only  Alice  and  Net- 
nokwa  stirred  in  the  lodge,  but  there  was  nothing  to  do. 
The  day  was  dull  and  bitter;  toward  night  Netnokwa 
went  out  for  another  armfull  of  wood.  She  forbade 
Alice  to  accompany  her.  "  Thy  will  is  strong,  daughter, 
but  thy  body  is  weak."  When  she  returned  there  were 
snowflakes  on  her  dress.  "  It  is  snowing  again,"  she 
said.  "  It  will  be  a  long  storm.  Now  there  is  no  help. 
The  end  is  come." 

Alice,  lying  on  her  blanket,  put  her  face  in  her  hands. 
"  God  help  father  and  George,"  she  said  in  the  prayer 
of  her  childhood.  She  thought  of  her  mother,  long  since 
dead.  "  And  take  me  quickly,"  she  whispered,  "  into 
Heaven." 

The  others  were  silent  for  a  long  time,  while  the 
daylight  died  away  and  the  little  fire  made  its  fitful 
gleam  more  visible  in  the  lodge.  The  sifting  snow  pre- 
pared their  grave,  the  creeping  cold  began  already  to 
finish  the  work  which  starvation  had  begun.  Alice  felt 
drowsiness  coming  upon  her.  She  did  not  fear,  she 
did  not  care.  Soon  she  would  lie  down  and  sleep. 

But  at  length  the  old  man  spoke.  "  There  is  yet  hope. 
Many  times  have  I  been  near  death,  death  like  this 
from  starvation.  Once  in  the  north  I  fasted  six  days. 
Then  a  Frenchman  came.  Once  on  the  prairie  I  was 
senseless  from  hunger,  but  the  Manitto  sent  one  to 
relieve  me.  Aneeb,  call  on  the  Manitto  to  help  us." 

For  a  while  Aneeb  said  nothing.  Then  he  dragged 
himself  into  a  sitting  posture.  "  Give  me,"  he  said  to 
his  mother,  "  my  little  drum  of  the  Metai." 

Netnokwa  brought  it.    Aneeb  opened  the  medicine- 


48  The  Colonials 

bag  at  his  breast,  and  cast  a  red  powder  on  the  fire. 
Then  he  began  to  beat  the  drum,  and  presently  they 
heard  his  voice,  hoarse  and  dry : 

"  I  call  upon  the  Metai,  upon  the  spirits  who  are 
above  me " 

His  voice  rose  and  fell.  He  beat  the  little  drum. 
The  old  woman  crouched  and  listened;  the  boy  raised 
his  head,  then  let  it  fall.  Alice  opened  her  eyes  and 
looked.  Would  the  Metai  help  them  ?  She  saw  only  the 
fire,  and  its  light  glistening  upon  the  thick  frost  that 
coated  the  mats  of  the  lodge.  For  some  minutes  she 
watched. 

Then  the  curtain  of  the  lodge-door  lifted.  Alice 
looked  dully ;  it  could  not  be  true.  The  others  did  not 
notice ;  Aneeb  was  rapt  in  his  .prayer.  No,  it  could 
not  be  true.  A  bright  flame  sprang  up  from  the  logs ; 
but  that  white  blur  against  the  black  night  was  not  a 
human  face.  Alice,  hopeless,  was  about  to  close  her 
eyes. 

The  door  lifted  higher.  A  stooping  figure  entered. 
The  drum  fell  from  the  hands  of  the  chief.  All  stared 
at  the  newcomer  as  at  a  spirit. 

"  Saggitto !  " 

Frank  looked  around  him  at  the  faces  pinched  with 
starvation.  He  held  out  his  hand  to  Alice,  but  she  was 
too  weak  to  move.  Then  he  threw  down  by  the  fire  two 
partridges,  and  spoke  with  a  voice  that  seemed  to 
break : 

"  It  is  well,  Aneeb,  that  you  beat  your  little  drum  of 
the  Metai." 


CHAPTER   IX 

THE  CABIN  IN  THE  WOODS 

There  stood  a  cabin  at  the  edge  of  the  brook,  small 
and  roofed  with  bark,  but  convenient  for  the  winter. 
Before  it  hung  on  a  branch  the  flesh  of  two  moose, 
while  not  far  away,  in  various  places,  cut  wood  was 
piled.  In  the  cabin  Aneeb,  his  leg  bound  with  splints, 
lay  on  a  bed  of  fir  twigs.  For  days  Frank  had  not 
ceased  work  except  to  throw  himself  to  sleep.  But  at 
last  the  building  was  finished. 

There  began  a  life  of  routine.  Before  daylight  the 
woman  rose  in  the  hut,  and  waked  the  boy  and  girl. 
Alice  and  Kewadin  went  out  into  the  cold  and  dusk, 
where  stars  yet  glimmered  above,  and  in  the  east  the 
sky  was  growing  bright.  They  brushed  the  last  snow 
from  the  nearest  woodpile,  and  brought  in  their  arms 
the  split  logs  to  the  cabin.  There  the  light  of  the  ris- 
ing fire  fell  upon  the  sleeping  men,  and  Alice,  pausing, 
might  see  Frank's  face.  On  him — ah,  there  hung  every 
hope  of  her  heart ! 

He  lay  as  unconscious  as  if  there  were  neither  Boston 
nor  London  for  him  or  for  her.  His  sleep  was  sound, 
his  face  was  calm  and  strong.  As  the  woman  cooked 
the  meal  Alice  stole  glances  at  him,  comforting  her. 
There  was  in  him  so  much  of  self-reliance,  so  much  of 
power,  that  each  day  she  could  take  courage  for  the 
future. 


50  The  Colonials 

But  in  the  morning  her  moments  with  him  were  few. 
When  Netnokwa  gave  permission,  she  might  wake 
him,  and  see  his  opening  eyes.  But  his  meal  was  hasty, 
and  he  was  soon  away.  At  the  door  of  the  hut,  in  the 
dawn,  Alice  stood  many  a  time  and  watched  his  form 
melt  among  the  distant  shadows  of  the  woods. 

Then  in  the  hut  she  would  work  at  the  skin-curing, 
or  at  the  ordering  of  the  place.  For  Netnokwa  was 
neat,  and  was  always  busy.  There  was  sewing  to  be 
done  with  great  needles  and  the  sinews  of  little  animals ; 
there  were  moccasins  to  be  made,  then  to  be  trimmed. 
And  Aneeb,  lying  without  complaint,  yet  had  to  be 
tended,  and  fed.  In  minutes  of  quiet  Alice  worked  on 
birch-bark,  brought  by  the  hunter  from  great  distances. 
With  a  sharp  stick  she  copied  sentences  from  her  Bible. 
But  Kewadin,  contemptuous,  left  her  and  tiptoed  about 
under  the  trees,  hoping  with  his  bow  and  arrow  to  shoot 
a  squirrel,  and  win  Frank's  smile. 

Frank's  smile ! — toward  evening  they  awaited  it. 
Netnokwa  prepared  the  evening  broth,  leaving  it  to 
simmer  long,  for  at  what  hour  Frank  might  return 
they  could  not  tell.  The  moose-skins  were  shaken  up 
afresh  at  his  seat,  and  the  floor  of  the  cabin  was  swept 
with  cedar  branches.  Pine  splinters  were  prepared ;  dry 
gummy  wood  was  picked  out  from  the  rest  and  laid 
in  its  own  pile.  This  work  done,  Netnokwa  would  take 
down  from  their  peg  the  softest  and  best  of  the  moc- 
casins, and  the  prettiest  leggins,  made  for  wear  in  the 
cabin.  And  then  from  time  to  time  Alice,  Kewadin, 
even  Netnokwa  herself,  would  stand  at  the  door  and 
gaze  about  through  the  woods. 

If  it  snowed  he  might  be  late ;  in  the  soft  snow  walk- 
ing was  difficut.  Or  if  it  snowed  hard  he  might  not 
come  at  all.  Yet  once  on  the  finest  night  he  did  not 
come ;  the  sun  was  hours  down,  but  he  did  not  come. 


The  Deliverer  51 

Netnokwa  and  the  others  lay  down  to  sleep.  "  Aneeb," 
cried  Alice  at  last,  "  where  is  Saggitto?  " 

"  Little  daughter,"  said  the  chief,  "  he  is  safe. 
To-morrow,  be  sure,  he  brings  fresh  meat." 

And  on  the  morrow,  before  noon,  Frank  returned, 
dragging  a  heavy  load  on  an  improvised  sledge. 

But  usually  as  the  dusk  fell  they  would  see  him  com- 
ing among  the  trees.  Then  with  a  shout  Kewadin  would 
rush  to  meet  him,  and  Alice,  less  hastily,  would  follow. 
The  moose-tongue,  or  the  partridges,  the  boy  would 
seize  with  pride,  and  beg  the  gun  to  carry.  But  the 
real  welcome  was  between  the  other  two,  with  looks, 
not  words,  and  with  hands  clasped  eagerly. 

In  the  cabin  the  two  men  looked  gladly  at  the  hunter 
returning,  and  at  the  sign  of  his  success.  Netnokwa 
and  Alice  removed  his  moccasins  and  leggins  before 
the  snow  should  melt,  hung  them  to  dry,  and  gave  him 
the  fresh  ones.  Next  the  bowl  of  broth,  or  the  platter 
of  meat,  was  set  before  the  hungry  man.  No  questions 
were  asked  him  until  he  was  ready  to  speak.  Then 
would  begin  their  hour  of  evening. 

Mukkwah  would  sing  the  Indian  chants,  and  with 
Aneeb  instruct  the  boy  in  Indian  legends  and  history. 
But  at  times  Alice  and  Frank,  sitting  side  by  side,  would 
speak  in  their  own  mother  tongue. 

He  made  her  speak  of  herself.  Her  mother  had  died 
years  before,  her  father  was  a  well-to-do  merchant,  her 
brother  was  a  soldier. 

"  An  officer."  she  said.  "  That  was  why  I  felt  so  safe 
with " 

She  stopped  and  dropped  her  eyes,  picturing  herself 
the  lieutenant  as  he  fell,  dead,  as  she  thought,  and 
shivered  slightly.  Frank  spoke  quickly  of  his  hunting 
to  draw  her  from  the  unpleasant  thought. 

She  brightened.    "  You  hunt  so  well !  "  she  cried. 


52  The  Colonials 

"  But  this  is  a  bad  game  country,"  he  said.  "  Now 
there  is  fair  hunting,  but  the  moose  and  elk  need  bushes 
to  feed  on,  or  young  trees.  Here  are  few ;  for  miles  are 
great  pines  and  hemlocks,  little  underbrush.  The  game 
is  already  leaving." 

Her  face  became  serious;  she  foresaw.  "Will  there 
be  little  to  eat  ?  " 

"  I  trust  not.     But  know  you  how  to  starve,  Alice  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said.  She  tightened  her  lips ;  her  eyes 
looked  back  into  memory.  "  Last  winter  two  more 
families  lived  near  us.  They  were  women  and  children, 
so  Aneeb  fed  them  as  well  as  us.  It  was  hard  some- 
times. But,"  she  added  confidently,  looking  up,  "  I  can 
live  on  little.  It  is  usually  three  days  before  I  faint." 

"  Usually  three  days,"  he  repeated.  "  Usually  three 
days!  And  at  home,  Alice?" 

Her  eyes  filled.    She  could  not  answer. 


CHAPTER   X 

COMPANIONSHIP 

"  Listen,"  said  Frank  to  Alice  one  morning  before 
setting  out.  "  Let  us  two  think  of  the  same  thing  to-day. 
Jt  is  nearly  a  month  since  I  found  you.  Aneeb  is  very 
much  stronger.  In  two  weeks,  perhaps,  I  can  ask  him 
for  you.  We  can  travel  on  the  snow  to  Detroit." 

"  Oh !  "  she  cried,  and  her  eyes  were  radiant. 

But  that  night  no  Kewadin  came  running  to  meet 
him.  Only  Alice,  with  piteous  face,  came  slowly  from 
the  cabin. 

"  What  is  the  matter?  "  he  asked. 

"  Aneeb,"  she  answered.  "  He  tried  to  walk.  He — 
his  leg — "  She  burst  into  tears.  He  could  scarcely 
comfort  her. 

Frank  set  the  leg  a  second  time.  "  Listen,  my 
brother,"  he  said  to  Aneeb ;  "  patience  is  here  necessary. 
Let  the  leg  be  broken  once  more,  and  Aneeb  will  never 
again  be  strong." 

Thus  suddenly  the  hope  of  home  was  blotted  out. 
Frank  saw  that  Alice  and  he  were  imprisoned  for  the 
winter.  Day  after  day  he  went  out  against  growing 
difficulties,  and  doggedly  maintained  his  struggle  with 
Nature. 

There  was  often  awe  in  the  hunter's  heart.  Not  born 
to  the  life,  he  felt  its  strangeness.  The  country  was 
monotonous.  One  valley  was  like  another,  one  ridge. 


54  The  Colonials 

There  were  trees  and  snow,  and  nothing  else.  As  he 
roamed  amid  the  solitude,  he  saw  his  insignificance. 
Somewhere  behind  him,  hours  away,  was  the  tiny  hut 
on  the  edge  of  the  frozen  stream,  close  to  the  ice-locked 
swamp.  Five  souls  there  awaited  him ;  their  lives 
depended  upon  his.  And  amid  forces  immensely  greater 
than  his  own,  he  wrestled  for  their  sustenance. 

He  hunted  huge  creatures,  and  fought  with  still  more 
formidable  foes.  Sleet  and  bitter  wind,  or  snow  and 
piercing  cold,  were  his  greatest  enemies.  More  than 
once  he  yielded  to  them  wisely,  sought  shelter  and  built 
a  fire,  and  outslept  the  storm.  In  one  great  blizzard 
he  spent  two  days  and  nights  in  the  lee  of  a  huge  rock. 
Sleet  and  snow  froze  upon  the  trees ;  overloaded,  the 
wind  snapped  them  at  the  root;  there  was  terrible 
crashing  all  around.  When  he  might  travel  again, 
everything  was  changed.  Old  landmarks  were  covered ; 
trees  lay  in  networks  across  his  former  paths.  Thus 
from  week  to  week  he  learned  anew  the  signs  of  the 
woods.  At  last,  upon  the  snow,  he  walked  six  feet 
above  the  earth. 

Amid  that  vastness,  in  his  struggle  with  the  wilder- 
ness, body  and  mind  grew.  Every  littleness  fell  away 
from  him.  In  those  months  he  attained  his  last  growth : 
the  final  breadth  of  his  shoulders,  the  strength  of  his 
back  and  waist,  the  great  girth  and  depth  of  his  chest. 
Twenty  miles  he  would  travel  in  an  ordinary  day,  care- 
fully hunting.  At  need,  upon  a  chase,  he  could  double 
the  distance.  Danger  and  responsibility  sharpened  his 
wits.  He  knew  each  valley  and  hill,  carried  in  his  mind 
every  path  of  the  woods,  knew  by  tree  and  knoll  and 
brook  all  ways  of  the  forest.  His  eye  was  as  quick,  his 
hand  as  steady,  his  head  as  cool  as  the  oldest  hunter's. 
He  was  white  and  Indian  both. 

There  was  reward  in  the  life,  as  he  grew  to  closer 


The  Deliverer  55 

intimacy  with  his  surrounding?.  From  the  forest  he 
drew  strength  for  his  soul — the  strength  of  the  Puritan 
face  to  face  with  his  God.  Day  after  day  alone  he 
thought,  and  drew  nearer  the  heart  of  things.  The 
stern  symphony  of  Nature  moved  and  uplifted  him. 
He  took  to  himself  some  of  the  qualities  of  his  sur- 
roundings— calmness,  stability,  silence. 

But  the  life  was  sad  and  hard ;  he  saw  always  battle, 
ending  in  death.  Grey  was  the  colour  of  all  things. 
Only  one  flower  bloomed  upon  the  snow.  Alice,  little 
Alice,  was  his  sole  pleasure. 

She  was  the  cause  of  this  life,  his  impelling  force. 
At  the  first  meeting  she  inspired  in  him  tenderness  and 
the  desire  to  protect.  She  was  weak ;  he  seemed  singled 
out  in  all  the  world  for  her  support.  In  proportion 
as  he  had  sacrificed  for  her,  he  prized  her.  To  guide 
her,  teach  her,  save  her,  was  his  resolution. 

Unconsciously,  she  rewarded  him.  He  found  that 
mentally  she  leaned  upon  him.  The  surprise,  the  flatter- 
ing pleasure,  warmed  his  heart.  In  the  feeling  of  pos- 
session, the  deep  satisfaction  of  opening  her  mind,  he 
felt  almost  the  mystery  of  parentage.  Everything  he 
did  was  for  that  child — no,  no  longer  a  child,  but  not  a 
woman.  She  was  at  the  growing  period,  her  budding 
form  springing  rapidly  to  greater  height,  but  with  mind 
still  undeveloped.  He  watched  her  carefully ;  she  should 
come  to  no  harm.  Every  word  he  spoke  to  her  he  con- 
sidered of  its  effect ;  everything  he  told  her  was  with 
purpose.  Always  she  reacted  upon  him.  The  effort  to 
keep  her  soul  pure  purified  his  own. 

Far  from  the  camp,  he  thought  of  her.  Sleeping 
alone  in  the  snow,  her  image  filled  his  dreams.  When 
he  killed,  he  gave  thanks  for  the  food  to  sustain  her. 
When  he  set  his  face  homewards,  he  hastened  his  steps. 


56  The  Colonials 

He  was  oppressed  with  fear  on  nearing  the  cabin  if  he 
did  not  see  her  at  once. 

The  silent  discipline  of  those  months  fixed  forever 
the  characters  of  both.  She  emerged  from  childhood; 
he  became  a  man.  The  strong  qualities — seriousness, 
reverence,  courage — marked  them  permanently.  Health 
gave  them  cheerfulness ;  companionship,  unity.  There 
was  no  thought,  no  dream  of  love.  They  were  brother 
and  sister;  and  the  force  of  the  bond  came  from  her. 
With  upturned  face,  bright  eyes,  and  ready  ear,  at  first 
his  care,  she  became  his  strength. 


CHAPTER   XI 

RETROSPECT 

When  at  last  the  hunting  became  difficult,  there  hung 
by  the  lodge  meat  for  many  weeks.  Frank  turned  to 
trapping,  and  began  to  lay  his  lines  through  the  woods. 
Many  deadfalls  he  would  make  in  a  day.  For  two 
leagues  each  line  stretched  away  from  the  cabin;  their 
outer  ends  were  connected  in  a  curve,  and  the  hut  was 
the  centre  of  a  great  wheel.  Day  after  day  Frank  went 
out  on  one  line,  crossed  to  the  next,  and  returned  upon 
it.  He  came  always  to  the  camp  laden  with  skins. 

The  short  days  came.  In  the  long  evenings  the 
cabin,  bright  from  the  pitch-pine  splinters,  saw  busy 
hands,  heard  cheerful  laughter.  All,  even  Aneeb  on 
his  bed,  even  Mukkwah  with  his  swollen  fingers,  worked 
at  the  curing  of  fur,  the  wealth  of  Indians. 

Once  of  an  evening  Frank  let  fall  in  his  lap  the  frame 
that  he  was  shaping,  and  looked  about  him.  From  the 
low  roof  of  the  little  hut  dangled  the  pelts ;  the  firelight 
cast  shadows  among  them,  and  flickered  on  the  dark 
faces  of  the  Indians.  They  worked  on,  but  Alice  came 
to  his  side.  "  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  marvel,"  he  responded.  With  a  gesture  he  swept 
the  scene.  She  also  looked  at  the  unconscious,  busy 
Indians,  and  heard  the  low  song  Netnokwa  crooned. 
Her  life  was  pictured  to  her;  she  looked  again  at 
Frank,  with  wonder. 


58  The  Colonials 

He  held  his  hand  to  her ;  she  put  down  the  skin  which 
she  held,  and  gave  him  her  warm  fingers.  "  Far  away," 
he  said,  "  many,  many  miles,  beyond  Detroit,  beyond 
Albany,  is  a  town.  In  that  town  there  is  a  house.  Just 
now,  I  thought  of  it." 

"  Tell  me,"  she  said. 

"  Tis  not  like  this.  Far  different,  Alice.  Its  smallest 
room  would  hold  four  cabins  such  as  this,  laid  two  and 
two,  lengthwise,  and  then  four  more  above.  Why,  there 
are  closets  as  large  as  this !  " 

She  was  listening  eagerly. 

"  See,"  and  he  pointed,  "  the  smoke  from  our  fire. 
Some  of  it  wanders  about  the  roof,  and  helps  to  dry 
the  skins.  In  this  house  so  far  away,  Alice,  are  great 
stone  fireplaces  that  let  no  smoke  escape.  The  ceilings 
are  white  and  clean.  There  are  no  skins  hanging  there. 
See  here,  how  the  lynx  and  fox  skins  almost  hide  the 
logs.  In  that  other  house  the  walls  are  panelled  with 
oak.  The  floor  here  is  trampled  dirt,  with  a  few  slabs. 
There  it  is  beautifully  laid  with  long  narrow  boards  of 
maple." 

"Where  is  that  house?"  she  asked. 

"  In  Boston." 

"  It  is  your  home  ?  "  she  breathed  the  words  softly. 

"  I  was  born  there.  Oh,  Alice,  Alice !  "  He  snatched 
his  hand  from  hers,  and  covered  his  eyes. 

Presently  he  felt  her  fingers  at  his  own.  He  showed 
his  face.  "  I  am  not  crying." 

She  was  wise.  "  Tell  me,"  she  said.  "  Why  did  you 
leave  your  home  ?  " 

She  opened  to  him  a  subject  on  which  he  talked  for 
many  evenings.  His  dead  father  and  mother,  his  uncle, 
his  brother  Dickie,  Ann,  Benjy,  she  learned  about  them 
all.  He  told  her  of  the  family  silver  his  uncle  would 
have  sold,  which  Benjy  stole  to  save.  He  told  of  him- 


The  Deliverer  59 

self  defending  Benjy  from  the  constables — a  crime.  She 
heard  with  fluttering  breath  of  their  flight  by  night,  saw 
as  with  his  own  eyes  the  sleeping  town  lie  behind  him, 
and  felt  in  her  own  heart  the  anguish  of  leaving  it. 
Then  he  described  lovingly,  room  by  room,  the  old 
house.  Most  he  dwelt  on  the  great  library,  with  its 
pictures  of  his  father  and  his  grandfather.  She  could 
close  her  eyes  and  see  them :  especially  the  old 
smuggler,  with  his  wig  and  cane,  posturing  above  the 
mantel ;  behind  him  were  his  ship  and  Fort  Hill,  with 
the  sconce  saluting.  Frank  was  immensely  proud  of  his 
family.  But  when  she  asked  him  his  surname  he  looked 
at  her  gravely,  and  would  not  tell. 

"  I  have  never  used  my  name  since  leaving  Boston. 
I  will  tell  you  some  day." 

Therefore,  though  he  spoke  often  of  his  family,  it 
was  always  as  "  we,"  or  "  us,"  or  "  my  grandfather." 
He  never  mentioned  the  Ellery  name. 

Once  he  spoke  of  their  politics.  "  We  are  all  Whigs,'' 
he  said  proudly.  "  My  uncle  alone  is  a  Tory." 

"  Whigs  ? "  she  asked  in  surprise.  "  Father  said 
Whigs  are  malcontents,  and  American  Whigs  are " 

"Well?" 

"  Rebels,"  she  admitted. 

"  Pretty  near,"  he  agreed. 

"But  Frank,  against  the  king?" 

When  he  had  finished  explaining  the  rights  guaran- 
teed to  the  citizens  of  Massachusetts  by  royal  pro- 
mise, she  was  unsettled  as  to  the  prerogative  of  the 
king.  Dreadfully  uncomfortable,  she  coaxed  him  back 
to  descriptions  of  his  home.  He  spoke  of  the  town ; 
he  pictured  her  landing  in  a  boat  from  England,  at 
Long  Wharf.  "  Before  you,"  he  said,  "  is  King  Street ; 
in  the  middle  stands  the  Town  House,  with  its  bell- 
canopy,  and  the  lion  and  unicorn." 


6o  The  Colonials 

"  But  to  get  to  your  house  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Turn  to  your  right  at  the  first  little  side  street. 
Tis  Merchants  Row.  Through  it  you  will  see  another 
grand  building,  Faneuil  Hall.  Pass  behind  it,  cross  the 
little  drawbridge,  and  take  the  narrow,  straight  lane 
beyond.  It  leads  to  a  broader  street,  Ann  Street,  and 
from  there " — and  he  described  the  houses,  streets, 
and  lanes  along  the  water  front,  until  they  came  in 
imagination  to  the  Ellery  house.  To  his  surprise  she 
repeated  the  description  correctly  after  him.  "  I  can  see 
it  all !  "  she  cried. 

Then  she  made  him  describe  the  house  again.  Once 
he  said,  in  the  warmth  of  his  remembrance : — "  and  the 
secret  passage " 

"  The  secret  passage?  "  she  echoed  in  delight. 

He  grew  stern  at  once.  "  Say  nothing  of  that,  ever  !  " 
he  commanded. 

"  Never,"  she  responded,  soberly. 


CHAPTER  XII 

TEMPTATION 

The  year  came  into  February ;  the  short  days  passed. 
But  there  passed  not  the  severity  of  the  winter.  Frank's 
eyes  were  often  cast  to  measure  the  store  of  food.  It 
diminished  so  fast  that  he  trapped  less  and  hunted  more. 
But  the  hunting  was  now  very  hard;  the  game  had 
moved  farther  and  farther  away.  No  fresh  track  of 
moose  or  elk  was  to  be  found  within  miles  of  the  hut. 
Though  Aneeb's  leg  was  improving,  he  could  not  help. 
Frank  left  at  last  his  marten  frozen  in  the  traps,  and 
hunted  daily. 

He  frequently  slept  away  from  the  cabin,  but  often 
from  a  two  days'  hunt  he  brought  nothing.  Never  did 
he  bring  much.  Once  there  was  no  food  left  in  the 
camp ;  even  the  beavers  were  exhausted  from  the  region. 
He  made  a  long  trip,  and  found  one  moose.  Starva- 
tion was  averted,  but  only  for  a  time.  Before  he  could 
find  more  meat  hunger  again  looked  from  Alice's  eyes. 

It  was  a  sore  labour.  At  the  end  of  each  day  his 
feet  were  heavy,  his  ankles  chafed  by  the  thongs  of  the 
snowshoes.  He  rejoiced  when  a  brief  thaw  gave  a  crust, 
that  he  could  walk  with  moccasins  alone.  Yet  then  his 
distances  were  less.  He  began  to  complain  involun- 
tarily. "  So  many  mouths  to  feed !  "  February  drew 
toward  its  end,  and  heavy  storms  made  the  life  terribly 
hard.  With  constant  work  and  little  food  he  grew  lean. 


62  The  Colonials 

Wolves  came  into  the  region.  He  feared  them  not, 
though  he  forbade  Alice  or  Kewadin  to  go  far  from 
home.  What  he  dreaded  was  their  destruction  of  the 
game.  Once  he  followed  two  days  on  the  old  track  of 
an  elk,  to  find  at  the  end  the  bones  picked  clean.  Dis- 
appointment blended  with  anger  and  alarm.  Hunger 
again  threatened  the  camp,  so  that  the  soup  of  a  squirrel 
was  welcome. 

"  So  many  mouths  to  feed !  "  The  complaint  came 
again  and  again  to  his  lips.  But  at  last  he  found  what 
he  had  sought,  far  to  the  east  of  the  camp — a  moose 
yard.  There  were  eight  moose  in  the  paths  deep 
trampled  in  the  snow;  they  fled  before  him,  gathering 
together.  Then,  penned,  the  bulls  stamped  and  bel- 
lowed, but  he,  standing  above  them  secure,  began  to 
shoot.  Before  the  rest  could  break  out  and  race  away 
on  the  powerful  crust,  five  fat  animals  lay  dead.  He 
cut  them  up,  hung  high  the  meat  from  the  wolves,  and 
for  days  busied  himself  in  dragging  it  to  the  cabin. 

But  he  was  weary  to  his  soul.  A  thought  tortured 
him.  On  the  sixth  day  he  let  the  wedge  of  his  tempta- 
tion enter.  "  I  will  not  really  do  it,  but  I  will  take  her 
with  me  to-day."  He  took  Alice  on  the  toboggan  when 
he  went  to  bring  in  the  last  load  of  meat. 

They  rested  on  the  snow  by  the  dead  moose.  He 
thought,  "  There  is  meat  for  a  month  at  the  cabin. 
Then  Aneeb  must  be  able  to  hunt.  If  only " 

"  You  are  thinking,"  she  said. 

He  broke  out.    "  Alice,  let  us  go !  " 

"Where?" 

He  looked  in  her  face.  Its  purity  shamed  him ;  he 
could  not  explain.  "  Back  to  the  lodge,"  he  said  hastily, 
and  began  to  load  the  toboggan.  He  dragged  his 
burden  wearily  back. 

A  mile  from  home  he  stopped,  and  looked  at  her. 


The  Deliverer  63 

"  What  is  it?  "  she  cried  alarmed.  Some  fierce  passion 
was  in  his  face. 

"  Why  did  we  not  go  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Where  ?  " 

He  did  not  answer,  but  trudged  on.  They  neared  the 
cabin ;  it  was  a  quarter  mile  away  when  he  saw  marks — 
a  stranger's  tracks  in  the  light  snow  that  covered  the 
crust.  Alice  called  from  the  sledge.  "  You  are  not 
going  straight." 

"  I  am  following,"  he  said. 

The  stranger  went  on  a  line  that  would  pass  the  cabin 
wide.  But  across  the  path  lay  a  felled  tree,  with  recent 
tracks  of  Frank's  own  making.  The  stranger  turned 
aside.  "  He  followed  me,"  said  Francis.  The  prints 
led  to  the  top  of  a  little  knoll.  "  From  here  he  could 
see  the  cabin." 

The  tracks  led  straight  to  the  door.  A  pack  lay  on 
the  snow,  and  a  pair  of  snowshoes  leaned  against  the 
logs.  "  Chippewa,"  said  Frank  when  he  was  close.  He 
entered  the  cabin.  The  stranger  sat  beside  Mukkwah. 
It  was  the  Panther. 

Frank  turned  to  Alice,  whose  face  was  white.  "  Why 
did  I  not  take  you,"  he  snarled,  "  to  Detroit?  " 


CHAPTER   XIII 

DANGER 

Next  morning  Aneeb  met  the  Panther's  argument  and 
offers  with  brief  words.  "  I  am  glad,"  he  said,  "  that 
fortune  has  saved  my  brother  a  long  journey.  But 
the  maiden  is  no  longer  mine.  The  white  man  has 
earned  her.  She  is  his." 

With  cheerful  face,  omitting  no  courtesies,  the  Pan- 
ther went  away.  As  the  sound  of  his  shuffling  snowshoes 
diminished  Alice  turned  to  Frank.  "  Is  not  this  better 
than  going  yesterday  to  Detroit?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  he  answered  gloomily.  "  He  has 
seen  our  weakness.  We  are  at  his  mercy." 

He  went  out  on  the  trail  of  the  Panther.  The  foot- 
steps first  headed  south,  and  then  swept  around  in  a 
curve  until  after  an  hour  they  pointed  northeast. 
Satisfied  on  this  score,  Francis  went  faster.  After  a 
while  he  overtook  the  Indian,  going  slowly.  The 
Panther  heard  the  man  behind,  and  turned.  Francis 
raised  his  hand;  they  stood  face  to  face  with  lowered 
weapons. 

The  Panther  hid  hatred  under  a  smile.  The  white 
man  measured  the  slender  Indian  with  bold  eyes.  "  My 
Chippewa  brother,"  he  said  with  directness,  yet  in 
formal  phrase,  "  sees  that  I  cannot  sell  what  is  mine. 
But  still  he  wishes.  Let  us  decide ;  there  is  a  simple 
way." 


The  Deliverer  65 

"What  way?" 

"  Let  us  fight.  With  gun,  or  knife,  or  tomahawk 
against  hanger." 

It  was  not  the  Indian's  way.  "  My  brother  does  me 
wrong.  I  no  longer  wish  the  girl.  She  is  his."  He 
turned  his  back  with  confidence. 

"  God !  "  groaned  the  young  man.  "  If  I  might  but 
shoot  him  as  he  goes !  "  He  watched  the  Indian  out  of 
sight,  then  returned  to  the  cabin. 

For  nine  days  he  scouted  always  to  the  north  and 
east.  For  nine  days  he  thought  ever  of  Detroit,  but 
now  he  could  not  leave  the  Indians  to  their  fate.  Mean- 
while Aneeb  betrayed  no  curiosity,  and  Mukkwah  was 
calm ;  but  they  knew  what  was  coming.  On  the  evening 
of  the  ninth  day  Francis  returned  late  to  the  cabin. 
Aneeb  saw  that  he  had  news.  "Where  are  they?" 
he  asked. 

"  Two  miles  to  the  north." 

"  How  many  ?  " 

"  Eight.  Old  and  young,  and  the  Panther  himself. 
Two  watch;  the  rest  sleep,  all  with  their  faces  to  the 
Chippewa  country." 

"  They  will  attack  at  daybreak,"  said  Aneeb.  For 
the  first  and  last  time  Frank  saw  him  moved  to 
exclamation.  "  Oh  !  Were  my  leg  once  more  whole  !  " 

But  the  eyes  of  the  old  man  gleamed.     "  I,"  he  said, 
"  shall  see  one  more  fight."    Eagerly  he  turned  to  his 
wife.      "  Fetch    water    from   the    brook !      Fill    all    the 
vessels  !    Bring  in  wood  and  meat !  " 
5 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE    FIGHT 

It  was  the  morning  of  the  second  day,  and  the  paling 
sky  threw  light  among  the  trees.  The  tall  black  trunks 
rose  without  grace  from  the  snow,  the  white  mantle 
of  which,  except  where  ran  the  course  of  the  brook,  was 
level  and  monotonous.  The  sun  rose ;  its  beams  at 
last  reached  the  earth,  and  hidden  forms  moved  slightly, 
grateful  for  the  promise  of  warmth.  But  stretched 
within  sight  of  the  cabin,  here  and  there,  were  other 
forms  that  moved  not,  and  crimson  stains  in  the  snow 
gave  reason  for  their  quiet. 

Grimly  threatening,  the  hut  squatted  on  the  bank  of 
the  brook.  The  sunbeams  streamed  through  its  chinks, 
where  moss  had  been  pulled  out  to  give  the  defenders 
loopholes.  Alice,  lying  with  her  eyes  shut,  dreaded  to 
hear  again  the  sounds  of  the  day  before — shots,  the  war- 
whoop,  and  the  horrible  rasping  of  a  death  song.  After 
nearly  an  hour,  she  opened  her  eyes  and  found  that 
there  was  light. 

Right  before  her  lay  Netnokwa,  straight  and  motion- 
less. By  the  cold  fire  was  Kewadin,  curled  in  a  ball. 
With  his  back  against  the  wall  sat  Mukkwah,  upright 
and  smiling,  his  gun  across  his  lap.  But  his  eyes  were 
glazed.  The  child  shuddered.  At  either  end  of  the  hut 
were  two  more  figures,  also  motionless,  also  streaked 
with  blood,  but  living.  They  lay  intently  watching  from 


The  Deliverer  67 

their  spyholes ;  they  said  no  word,  and  as  Alice  waited 
the  silence  grew  oppressive.  She  began  to  long  for 
sound,  until  Frank  moved.  Then  she  covered  her  ears. 
He  drew  back  from  the  logs,  raised  his  gun,  and  laid 
the  muzzle  at  the  crevice.  Looking  along  the  sights 
he  waited — one  minute — three  minutes.  Then  she 
heard  the  dull  report. 

Aneeb  looked  over  his  shoulder.     "Another?" 

Frank  studied  the  figure  struggling  in  the  snow.  It 
lay  still.  "Another." 

"  Then  there  are  four  left.    But  was  it  the  Panther  ?  " 

"  No." 

Alice  sat  upright.    "  You  are  hungry.    Shall  I  cook  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Frank.  "  Lie  still."  She  lay  down  once 
more,  and  he,  coming  to  her,  stepping  carefully  over 
the  bodies  in  his  way,  arranged  blankets,  wood,  and 
piles  of  skins  about  her.  He  passed  his  hand  over  her 
hair  in  a  caress,  then  went  to  his  post. 

The  day  wore  on.  Hour  after  hour  the  men  peered 
out  at  the  sun  and  snow.  No  shot  broke  the  stillness. 
At  last  Alice,  worn  out,  fell  into  a  broken  sleep.  She 
woke  to  a  sound,  a  rustling  and  scraping  beneath  her. 

"  What  do  I  hear?  "  she  asked,  not  yet  awake. 

"  I  hear  nothing,"  answered  Frank. 

"  It  is  here,"  she  said.  "  Right  here  in  the  ground." 
She  laid  her  ear  to  the  earth.  "  Frank,  come  here ! 
Listen ! — Why,  now  it  sounds  like  a  crackling !  " 

There  was  no  need  for  Frank  to  lay  his  ear  to  the 
ground.  He  stopped  on  his  way  to  her,  and  stood 
listening.  Aneeb,  from  his  place  as  he  lay,  spoke  hastily. 
"  Fire !  " 

"  One  of  them,"  cried  Frank,  "  has  crept  up  under 
the  bank  of  the  brook,  and  fired  the  hollow  stump.  It 
is  dry;  it  has  the  draught  of  a  chimney  and  runs  up 
along  the  wall.  This  is  the  end  of  us !  " 


68  The  Colonials 

He  hastened  back  to  his  post,  and  looked  out.  A 
figure,  scrambling  from  the  frozen  brook,  was  just  con- 
cealing itself.  "  Too  late !  It  was  the  Panther."  A 
horrible  screaming,  like  no  human  sound,  filled  the  air 
with  the  triumph  of  devils,  and  Alice  stopped  her  ears 
to  the  revolting  war-whoop. 

The  two  men,  knowing  that  nothing  was  to  be  done, 
again  settled  wordless  in  their  places.  The  war-whoop 
ceased,  and  the  three  heard  clearly  the  hissing  of  fire. 
Alice  lay  trembling;  Frank,  in  helpless  anger,  con- 
templated the  end;  Aneeb,  with  the  persistence  of  an 
Indian,  still  revolved  plans  for  their  escape. 

Then  began  an  awful  waiting.  The  stump  burned 
slowly  at  first.  Icicles  from  the  eaves  melted,  and  snow 
from  the  roof  dropped  upon  the  fire.  The  logs  were 
thick.  But  the  hissing  and  crackling  continued,  and 
Alice,  watching  nervously,  saw  at  last  what  she  dreaded, 
a  tongue  of  flame.  It  licked  in  between  the  logs,  and 
disappeared.  No  more  came  for  a  while ;  then  the  little 
deadly  herald  came  again,  this  time  to  stay,  and  others 
followed  in  its  train.  Their  light  flickered  in  the  dusk 
of  the  cabin,  and  threw  upon  her  face  the  shadows  of 
fear. 

As  the  logs  wasted,  the  flames  grew,  and  sneered 
threats  at  her.  Smoke  sucked  in,  took  her  by  the 
throat,  and  smarted  in  her  eyes.  The  roof,  cleared  of 
snow,  dried,  smoked,  and  blazed.  Then  a  great  piece 
of  burning  bark  sagged  suddenly,  hung,  and  dropped  to 
the  floor.  Frank  leaped  up  and  stamped  out  the  flames. 

Now  from  where  she  lay  Alice  could  see  the  tree- 
tops,  and  the  blessed  sky.  But  clouds  of  smoke  and 
sparks  obscured  them  at  times,  more  of  the  roof  began 
to  burn,  and  cinders  and  blazing  bits  of  bark  fell  within 
the  cabin.  Another  veil  came  from  the  hidden  foes, 


The  Deliverer  69 

and  a  bullet  buzzed  through  the  loop  where  Frank  sat 
sullen. 

The  heat  in  the  cabin  was  intense.  More  and  more 
smoke  sucked  in.  Frank  left  his  place  again  to  put  out 
the  cinders  and  sparks  that  fell.  But  wider  above  his 
head  grew  the  area  of  flame,  and  at  length  another  sec- 
tion of  bark  dropped  at  his  feet.  He  coughed  and 
choked  as  he  threw  a  moose-skin  upon  it,  treading  the 
embers  into  the  ground.  His  face  was  streaked  with 
sweat  and  soot ;  his  eyes  glared  desperately,  and  as 
Alice  watched  him  she  knew  he  had  no  hope.  More 
yells  of  triumph  came  from  without,  and  again  a  musket 
sounded. 

But  Aneeb,  lying  quiet,  heedless  of  the  fire,  answered 
this  last  message.  He  withdrew  his  gun  and  peeped  out. 
Then  he  spoke :  "  Three  left.  Now  there  are  no  more 
at  my  end." 

To  Francis  came  the  idea  of  sallying  into  the  open, 
and  warring  on  the  remaining  three  from  what  covert 
he  could  find.  But  the  roof  creaked,  the  wall  of  the 
cabin  suddenly  settled  as  if  to  fall.  Such  a  fight  outside 
might  need  hours  for  its  finish,  but  for  Aneeb  and  Alice 
in  the  cabin  were  few  minutes  left.  Ringed  thus  about 
with  flame,  cooped  in  a  furnace,  he  welcomed  the  des- 
perate thought  that  came. 

The  charitable  modern  calls  a  murderer  insane.  But 
Frank's  mind  was  clear,  his  purpose  calm,  as  he  sat 
down  beside  the  girl.  The  hunger  within  him,  the  pain 
of  his  dried  wounds,  were  but  spurs  to  his  will,  and  in 
the  fever-heat  of  the  cabin  his  blood  was  cool.  But  a 
weary  sadness  came  down  upon  him,  fitting  for  the  end 
of  such  a  life. 

He  took  her  hand.    "Alice,  are  you  frightened?" 

She  looked  at  him  with  wide  eyes,  bright  with  the 


70  The  Colonials 

glimmer  of  tears.  Yet  she  answered :  "  No.  I  have 
been  praying." 

"  Do  you  fear  death,  dear?  " 

"  A  little.  Mostly  for  leaving  father  and  George,  and 
you.  But  they  have  been  hard,  these  two  years.  I  am 
ready." 

The  words  were  as  a  signal  to  him.  He  loosened  the 
knife  at  his  belt.  Then  he  took  her  in  his  arms,  and 
raised  her  to  him.  "  One  kiss,  dear,"  he  said.  Their 
lips  met.  He  held  her  close  with  one  arm.  Quickly, 
now!  Quickly  he  drew  the  knife  and  gripped  it  for 
the  thrust. 

"  Saggitto,"  said  Aneeb. 


CHAPTER   XV 

THE     ESCAPE 

"  Saggitto,"  said  Aneeb.  "  No  one  else  has  come  to 
guard  this  side.  Now  the  smoke  hangs  low.  Come 
and  see." 

The  voice  sounded  through  a  curtain  of  smoke. 
Frank  released  Alice,  slipped  the  knife  into  its  case,  and 
groped  his  way  to  Aneeb.  Looking  out  the  crack  of 
the  door,  he  saw  that  the  smoke  of  the  fire,  before  a 
little  breeze,  dropped  to  the  snow  just  beyond  the  cabin 
and  swept  along  its  surface.  Fifty  feet  away  nothing 
could  be  seen. 

Aneeb  laid  a  hand  on  his  arm.  The  young  man  turned 
from  the  daylight,  and  saw  the  eyes  of  the  chief  gleam- 
ing in  the  dusk. 

"  Listen,"  said  Aneeb.  "  This  is  the  end.  For  me 
is  no  escape.  But  since  the  door  is  here  and  no 
Chippewa  stands  in  the  path,  for  you  and  the  white 
girl  is  a  way." 

"  Speak,"  said  Francis. 

"  I  can  run  a  few  steps,"  said  Aneeb.  "  No  more  is 
necessary.  Take  you  the  toboggan  and  on  it  put  the 
maiden.  We  will  open  the  door.  I  rush  out  and  shout ; 
I  go  around  the  corner,  toward  them.  When  they  are 
looking  at  me,  shooting,  you  run  straight  away,  into 
the  smoke." 

Another  piece  of  the  roof  fell,  and  burned  upon  the 


72  The  Colonials 

floor.  The  flames  lit  up  the  scene.  Frank  looked  at  the 
girl,  then  seized  the  chief's  hand.  "  My  brother !  " 

"  Get  you  ready,"  said  Aneeb,  his  whole  aspect 
exalted.  "  Send  the  girl  to  me." 

Alice  went  to  the  chief  and  knelt.  Frank  freed  the 
toboggan  from  its  load  of  wood,  brought  in  against  the 
siege.  Soon  he  was  ready.  He  put  Alice  on  the  sledge, 
and  supported  the  chief  to  the  door.  "  Let  me  stand 
alone,"  said  Aneeb. 

The  Indian  stood  erect,  and  cast  his  glance  on  the 
bodies  in  the  hut.  His  father,  his  mother,  his  son — he 
eyed  all  three.  Then  he  gave  his  hand  to  Alice — she 
kissed  it ;  gave  it  to  Frank — he  pressed  it ;  raised  his  gun 
and  looked  at  the  priming.  "  Do  not  forget  me,"  he 
said,  and  opened  the  door.  They  saw  him  hobble  out, 
to  the  left,  and  heard  the  peal  of  his  war-whoop. 

The  Chippewa  broke  upon  him  with  yells  and  shots. 
From  the  murk  of  the  cabin  Frank  stepped  into  the 
open  and  ran  straight  ahead,  the  toboggan  gliding 
behind.  No  shot  followed,  no  foot  sped  after.  Fifty 
feet,  and  the  smoke  swallowed  them  up. 

At  the  end  of  two  hundred  yards,  once  more  in  clear 
air,  Frank  stopped  and  looked  back.  All  was  silent 
beyond  the  curtain  of  smoke.  "  Aneeb  is  dead,"  he 
said.  "  The  Chippewa  watch  the  cabin."  He  cast 
his  eye  at  the  sun,  and  started  again.  The  toboggan 
rubbed  out  the  track  of  his  feet,  bui  left  its  own  trail 
in  the  snow. 

He  saw  it,  and  knew  what  to  do.  The  moose  had 
taught  him.  He  ran  for  three  miles;  ever  straight, 
ever  with  speed.  Then  he  fetched  a  curve  back,  and 
approached  his  trail  from  the  side.  He  took  his  posi- 
tion at  the  top  of  a  long  slope,  put  Alice  behind  a  tree, 
and  gave  into  her  hand  his  knife.  "  If  I  fall — "  he  said. 

"  I  know,"  she  answered  firmly.    "  I  will  not  fail." 


The  Deliverer  73 

He  went  a  little  nearer  the  trail  and  waited  concealed, 
looking  back  along  the  path.  How  many  would  come  ? 
Two,  or  three  ? 

They  had  not  long  to  wait.  Fifteen,  twenty  minutes ; 
then  she  heard  his  voice,  full  of  satisfaction.  "  Only 
one  is  coming." 

One  Indian,  lean  and  light,  he  saw  flitting  in  and 
out  among  the  trees,  following  the  trail.  It  was  not  the 
Panther.  Frank  noted  the  splendid  mechanism  of  his 
pace,  and  even  grimly  admired.  The  savage  came  fast, 
his  eager  eyes  glancing  ahead,  a  fierce  smile  distorting 
his  painted  visage.  Frank  waited,  composed  and  sure, 
raised  and  pointed  his  gun,  and  fired  when  the  Indian 
was  close.  Without  a  cry  the  savage  leaped  high,  and 
fell,  crushing  the  frozen  snow.  Frank  leaned  his  gun 
against  the  tree,  and  drew  his  hanger. 

Then  he  heard  a  rush  of  feet  behind  him,  and  Alice's 
voice  of  terror  :  "  Beware  !  " 

By  instinct  he  turned  and  leaped  aside.  He  saw  the 
triumphant  face  of  the  Panther,  a  levelled  gun  and  a 
leaping  flame.  He  felt  a  blow  on  his  side,  but  raised 
his  hanger  and  sprang  forward.  Dropping  the  gun  the 
Panther  fell  on  his  knee,  and  while  he  felt  for  his  knife 
with  one  hand  raised  his  other  arm  to  guard  his  head. 

The  upraised  hand  leaped  from  the  arm,  the  hanger 
met  the  skull  of  the  savage  and  split  it  to  the  nose. 
The  Indian's  body  fell  to  one  side,  wrenching  the 
weapon  from  the  white  man's  hand. 

Alice  came  running.  "  Oh  Frank,  you  are  wounded 
again!  Is  it  bad?" 

Frank  breathed  deeply,  feeling  at  his  side.  "  He  was 
a  devil,"  he  said,  "  to  follow  the  trail  on  a  parallel  line. 
No,  the  wound  is  not  bad,  but  'twill  trouble.  We  are 
without  shelter,  we  have  lost  everything,  and  Detroit  is 
far." 


74  The  Colonials 

v 

Her  thought  was  all  for  him.  She  clung  to  him,  and 
caressed  him  with  compassionate  hands.  But  he,  as  he 
looked  about  him  in  the  barren  forest,  saw  the  shadow 
of  death  amid  the  trees. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

FAMINE 

Frank  stood  beneath  a  spruce,  and  eyed  a  partridge 
above  him.  "  Why  do  you  hesitate  ?  "  asked  Alice. 

The  bird  stood  rigid,  staring  with  one  eye  at  the 
strange  beings  below.  Frank  fired  at  last,  and  cut  the 
neck  through.  "  Why  did  you  hesitate  ?  "  asked  Alice 
again. 

He  threw  his  gun  in  the  snow,  and  cast  off  powder- 
horn  and  bullet-pouch.  "  We  must  have  food,"  he  said, 
"  but  that  was  my  last  charge.  The  gun  is  useless. 
This  is  all  the  food  we  shall  have  until  Detroit." 

"  How  far  is  that  ?  " 

"  We  have  gone  two  days  already.  Perhaps  four  days 
more." 

Two  miles  from  there  a  moose,  the  first  they  had  seen, 
started  out  of  a  thicket  and  ran  away.  Frank  laughed 
bitterly. 

"  I  could  have  shot  him  with  Kewadin's  bow." 

"  Never  mind,"  she  said.  "  Do  your  wounds  trouble 
you?" 

"  No."     But  she  saw  that  he  was  very  pale. 


Three  more  days  and  they  sat  wearily  upon  the  sledge. 
The  unpitying  forest  still  enfolded  them.  The  same  tall 
trees  stood  close  around,  the  same  snow  lay  like  a 
shroud. 


76  The  Colonials 

"  Is  it  far  now'?  "  she  asked. 

"  Not  far." 

"  Then  the  last  food,"  she  begged  eagerly. 

He  took  it  from  the  pouch,  a  little  piece  of  meat. 
He  held  it  in  his  hand,  and  looked  at  her.  "  Alice " 

"What?" 

"  I  am  almost  done.  If  you  eat,  I  cannot  get  to 
Detroit.  If  I  eat  it  all,  I  can." 

She  struggled.    "  Take  it,"  she  said  at  last. 

He  ate  it  slowly,  moistening  his  dry  mouth  with  snow. 
With  her  face  in  her  hands,  her  tears  yet  slipped 
through  her  fingers.  Never  tasted  food  bitterer  to  man. 

After  a  little  he  laid  her  on  the  toboggan,  covered 
her  with  the  blanket,  and  dragged  her  onward  with  fresh 
strength. 


At  sunset  on  the  next  day  he  came  out  of  the  forest, 
and  saw  before  him  the  bare  clearing  and  the  palisaded 
fort.  The  increased  speed  roused  Alice.  He  heard  her 
feeble  voice  from  behind:  "What  is  it?" 

"  Lie  down."  He  hurried  on.  The  moment  was  at 
hand  for  the  closing  of  the  fort.  He  heard  the  clear 
notes  of  the  bugle,  saw  the  red  flag  float  down.  But 
at  the  gate  a  group  waited,  watching.  At  last  he  stood 
before  them,  unsteadily.  The  toboggan  glided  up  and 
stopped.  Alice  raised  her  head. 

The  three  officers  in  red  looked  at  him  curiously. 
A  white  man — starving — so  much  was  evident.  They 
heard  his  hollow  voice  :  "  The — commandant  ?  " 

"  I  am  lie." 

"  As  you  are  a  man — send  the  girl — home." 

"  Catch  him !  "  cried  the  colonel  quickly. 

They  laid  his  body  down. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

SEPARATION 

The  chaplain  and  the  doctor  joined  the  colonel  in  a 
room  of  the  fort.  The  colonel  was  studying  a  letter. 
"  I  have  called  you,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  because  I 
received  this  letter  late  last  night,  by  a  runner.  Lieu- 
tenant Tudor  writes  me  for  the  twentieth  time  from 
Montreal.  He  is  recalled  to  London,  and  must  leave 
on  the  first  of  April.  He  asks  for  the  last  time  if  we 
have  found  his  sister.  Mr.  Morton,  you  must  start  with 
her  to-day.  Another  such  week  of  waiting,  and  the 
spring  thaws  will  delay  you.  You  would  miss  him." 

"  I  am  sure  I  am  ready,"  answered  the  chaplain 
testily.  "  I  have  overstayed  my  time,  waiting  for  this 
fellow  to  die.  She  will  not  stir  till  then.  Is  there  any 
change  in  him  this  morning,  doctor?  " 

"  Xot  a  bit,"  the  doctor  answered.  "  He  still  lies  like  a 
corpse,  but  how  soon  he'll  be  one,  whether  next  minute 
or  next  week,  no  one  can  say." 

"  He'll  not  recover?  "  asked  the  colonel. 

"  Not  a  chance  of  it." 

The  colonel  paced  the  room,  shaking  his  head.  "  We 
must  do  it,"  he  muttered  finally.  "  Twill  be  a  kindness. 
Gentlemen,  I  have  just  been  to  look  at  the  woodsman. 
He  is  like  ice ;  no  one  would  dream  that  he  still  lives. 
We  must  tell  her  he  is  dead." 

"  Eh?  "  cried  the  startled  doctor. 

"  It's  not  exactly — "  began  the  chaplain,  shocked. 


78  The  Colonials 

"  Tis  the  best  way,"  interrupted  the  colonel.  "  Else 
there  will  be  another  long  separation  from  her  family. 
Pray,  Mr.  Morton,  make  no  objection.  Doctor,  have 
the  fellow  covered  with  a  sheet.  I  go  to  order  his  grave 
to  be  begun."  He  left  the  room,  his  subordinates  look- 
ing at  each  other  with  the  beginnings  of  approval. 

Alice  sat  in  her  chamber.  One  week  had  made  her 
strong  again,  but  her  eyes  showed  a  persistent  anxiety. 
When  there  came  a  knock  at  the  door,  she  ran  to  it 
hastily.  The  colonel  entered. 

"  Can  I  go  to  him  now?  "  she  begged. 

"  A  moment,"  said  the  colonel.  "  I  must  speak  to  you 
first — must  tell  you " 

"  Oh !  "  she  cried,  a  gasping  cry  as  from  a  broken 
heart.  "  I  know.  He  is  dead !  " 

The  colonel  said  nothing.  She  turned  away,  but  she 
could  not  weep  for  the  horror  of  it.  Frank  had  saved 
her,  but  he  had  died.  Then  what  of  his  ambition?  And 
his  brother?  And  his  friends?  A  terrible  responsibility 
washers.  Should  she  not  have  died  instead?  Then  pity 
rushed  over  her,  and  she  wept.  But  at  length  she 
ceased,  and  spoke  again : 

"  I  may  go  to  him  now."  It  was  not  a  request,"  but 
a  demand. 

"  Wait,"  said  the  colonel.  "  Within  an  hour  a  party, 
the  last  before  the  spring  thaw,  leaves  for  Montreal. 
Your  brother  has  written  once  more ;  he  is  leaving  for 
London,  but  if  you  start  at  once  you  will  find  him. 
You  will  be  safe  on  the  journey  with  soldiers  and  the 
chaplain.  I  wish  you  to  go." 

"  I  will  go,"  she  said,  scarcely  pausing  for  the  deci- 
sion. "  But  I  must  see  Frank  buried  first." 

The  colonel  shook  his  head.  "  The  ground  is  frozen. 
It  will  take  hours  to  break  a  grave.  Come  and  look." 


The  Deliverer  79 

He  led  her  to  the  window,  and  pointed  out  two  men 
beginning  a  trench.  "  There  will  not  be  time  for  you  to 
see  it." 

"  I  will  go,"  she  said.  The  colonel  wondered  at  her 
composure  as  he  led  the  way  to  another  room. 

The  chaplain,  visibly  nervous,  stood  at  the  side  of 
the  bed.  The  doctor,  his  hand  at  his  lip,  watched  keenly. 
Alice  looked  down  at  her  friend.  Frank's  face  was 
marble ;  his  expression  was  calm,  as  if  satisfied  with  his 
work.  She  looked  long  at  him.  "  He  is  willing  to  have 
done  it  for  me,"  she  thought ;  "  but  oh,  I  was  less  impor- 
tant in  this  world !  "  Her  tears  fell  upon  his  face  as 
she  stooped.  She  kissed  the  cold  lips.  Then  she  left 
the  room.  All  three  of  the  men  breathed  as  if  relieved. 

An  hour  later  the  colonel  stood  by  her  side  and  said 
the  last  words :  :'  The  chaplain  has  his  money.  It  was 
in  his  belt ;  he  would  wish  it  to  be  yours.  And  if  you 
miss  your  brother  it  will  bring  you  to  England.  The 
chaplain  will  take  care  of  you." 

"  You  are  both  very  kind." 

"  And  madam " 

Madam !  It  was  the  soldiers  tribute  to  her  com- 
posure, her  dignity,  her  real  maturity.  Hardship,  suffer- 
ing, and  finally  death,  and  death,  and  death,  had  made 
Alice  a  woman. 

"  And  madam,  we  wish  you  a  safe  and  successful 
journey." 

All  were  saying  good-by.  The  other  officers  came 
forward  to  take  her  hand.  She  spoke  ;  she  said  good-by. 
But  she  saw  only  two  men  digging  a  trench  with  picks. 
At  them  she  looked  long.  Benjy's  word  had  come  true  : 
Frank's  grave  was  being  dug  in  the  wilderness.  Then 
she  went  to  the  sledge  and  covered  her  face  writh  her 
hood. 

The  train  started.     Indians,  soldiers,  the  dogs,  the 


8o  The  Colonials 

chaplain  on  his  sledge,  Alice  on  hers,  the  baggage 
sledges,  all  crossed  the  ice.  Those  at  the  fort  watched 
till  the  travellers  were  swallowed  up  in  the  forest  across 
the  river.  Then  the  men  with  the  picks  fell  to  work 
again :  the  grave  would  be  needed  soon. 


&  the  surroundi'Tig  Country. 

/3\  «^  -^  *2§ 

/  ^^7    J" 


Book 


WHIGS.  TORIES,  C>  REDCOATS 


~~<x>~>— ~Q  Chapter  One   <»<xx~~<x~< 

Roxbury  Tavern 


HE  afternoon  of  the  i6th  of  Decem- 
ber, 1773,  was  lowering  and  cold. 
Snow  lay  upon  the  ground,  eaves 
were  cased  in  ice,  and  the  country 
round  about  Boston  was  grim  and 
surly  as  the  temper  of  its  people. 
But  on  the  hard-packed  roads  was 
much  travelling,  and  from  whatever  points  commanded 
the  peninsular  town,  men  often  paused  and  gazed  across 
the  water  at  its  cluster  of  spires,  as  if  endeavouring  to 
read  in  them  the  actions  that  were  taking  place  beneath. 
Unseen,  on  farther  shores,  other  observers  were  in 
spirit  watching.  Boston  that  day  was  making  history ; 
England  as  well  as  America  was  concerned.  The  many 
travellers  who  made  Boston  their  objective  were  but 
types  of  the  hundred  thousand  who  would,  if  they  could, 
that  day  have  hurried  thither. 

Amid  the  numerous  wayfarers,  a  traveller  from  the 
north  ended  his  long  march,  and  in  the  little  village  of 
Roxbury  sold  his  woodsman's  clothes.  The  tailor — 


84  The  Colonials 

dealer  in  old  apparel  as  well  as  new — studied  with  curi- 
osity the  tall,  athletic  fellow,  whose  eyes  and  composed 
face  showed  a  wisdom  greater  than  his  years,  and  upon 
whose  arms  were  scars.  Such  clothes,  also,  seldom 
came  so  far  to  the  south.  The  traveller  exchanged  all 
his  outer  garments  for  new,  and  stood  forth  a  different 
being.  The  tailor,  struck  by  what  seemed  more  than 
an  external  change,  was  mastered  by  his  inquisitiveness. 

"  You  have  come  far  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Friend,"  said  his  customer,  smiling.  "  You've 
charged  me  well,  I  make  no  doubt.  I  gave  my  money 
without  haggling.  Let  me  keep  my  information  to 
myself." 

"  Gad,"  said  the  tailor,  peering  after  him  through  the 
frosty  panes.  "  High  as  Hancock,  and  as  free  with  his 
money !  Yankee  too,  I  dare  swear,  of  town  upbringing. 
He  picked  up  neither  his  accent  nor  his  breeding  in 
the  woods." 

The  traveller  walked  to  the  tavern.  He  felt  himself 
a  new  man,  and  looked  down  at  his  clothes  as  at  a 
disguise.  "  I  scarce  know  myself."  He  opened  the 
door  of  the  tavern,  and  entered  the  common  room. 
The  landlord,  portly  and  fair,  stood  and  regarded  him 
silently  from  behind  the  bar.  "  To  book  for  the  Boston 
stage,"  said  the  traveller.  "  The  front  seat,  if  I  may 
have  it." 

"  Ay,"  said  the  landlord,  as  one  resigned.  He  opened 
the  book  where  it  lay,  and  marked  a  cross.  "  No  trade 
for  me  this  night,  Afoot  or  by  the  stage,  all  Boston- 
ward." 

The  traveller  looked  about  him  at  the  empty  room. 
"  Is  all  the  village  gone  to  Boston,  landlord?  A  mug  of 
porter." 

The  landlord  drew  a  mugfull,  and  pushed  it  across 
the  bar.  "All  Roxbury,"  he  said,  "Would  I  might 


Whigs,  Tories,  and  Redcoats  85 

go  myself!  There  will  be  things  to  see  and  hear  this 
night." 

"  What  do  you  expect?  "  the  traveller  asked.  "  What 
will  Boston  do  with  its  tea-ships?  Will  there  be  vio- 
lence, landlord?  " 

The  question  drew  the  cork.  The  landlord  poured 
forth  his  political  wisdom,  and  with  many  gurglings. 

"  Uh-er,  young  man,"  he  said,  facing  about.  "  Sir,  do 
you  understand  the  question  at  issue?  Twenty  days 
to-morrow  has  the  tea-ship  lain  at  the  wharf  in  Boston. 
To-morrow  the  officers  of  customs  may  seize  the  cargo. 
Till  to-day  the  people  have  prevented  landing  it. 
Twenty  days  the  governor — what  do  you  think  he  has 
done  at  last,  sir?  " 

"  I  know  not." 

"  He  has  slipped  away,  sir.  Gone  to  Milton !  For 
what  other  purpose  than  to  evade  the  just  demands 
of  the  people?  But  he  is  forced  to  answer,  nevertheless. 
This  afternoon  the  ship-owner  passed  the  tavern,  going 
to  the  governor  with  the  last  message  from  the  Boston- 
ians,  requiring  him  to  allow  the  "  Dartmouth  "  to  clear 
for  England." 

"  What  will  he  say  ?  " 

"  Um-ah  !  "  A  shallow  vessel,  soon  dry.  But  he  added 
by  rote.  "  The  liberties  of  the  country  are  at  stake." 

The  traveller  asked  one  more  question :  "  And  the 
other  two  tea-ships — what  of  them  ?  " 

"  That  depends,"  said  the  landlord.  The  traveller  hid 
his  face  behind  his  mug.  The  landlord  began  again  to 
polish  his  pewter. 

Now  the  traveller,  as  he  walked  in  the  cold,  had  worn 
no  cloak  and  felt  no  chill.  His  mug  of  porter  was  not 
heating;  it  was  convention's  payment  for  the  waiting- 
place.  But  there  entered  next  (throwing  hastily  open 
the  outer  door,  stamping  in  the  passage,  coming  into 


86  The  Colonials 

the  room  with  many  shivers)  a  handsome  man  of  middle 
age,  with  cloak  drawn  close,  hastening  to  place  himself 
before  the  fire.  The  landlord  dropped  his  pewter  in 
astonishment.  "  Doctor  Church !  " 

"  A  raw  evening,  landlord  Jones,"  cried  the  new- 
comer. His  resonant  voice  was  good-natured  in  spite 
of  his  discomfort ;  his  manly  features  were  but  touched 
with  the  signs  of  dissipation.  "  A  raw  evening.  Your 
servant,  sir.  Friend  Jones,  a  mug  of  toddy,  and  make 
it  hot." 

The  traveller  had  half-risen,  his  hand  to  his  hat. 
Hence  the  "  your  servant  "  from  the  cheery  lips.  And 
the  landlord  hastened  from  the  bar. 

"  Let  me  take  your  hat,  Doctor  Church,"  he  begged. 
"  Your  cloak." 

"  Nay,"  cried  the  doctor.  "  Let  me  get  warm.  Your 
toddy,  friend  Jones,  and  quickly.  Then  must  I  on  to 
Boston,  to  town-meeting." 

The  traveller,  recollecting  himself,  sank  back  in  his 
chair.  But  the  doctor  turned  to  him  as  the  landlord 
went  back  to  the  bar. 

"  Your  servant,  sir,"  he  said  again,  "  though  I  don't 
recall  your  face." 

"Ah,  Doctor,"  said  the  young  man,  rising;  "it  was 
instinct  that  tempted  the  salute.  I  can  claim  no 
acquaintance." 

"  Claim  it  by  all  means,"  said  the  doctor,  the  cloaked 
hands  showing  abortive  gestures.  "  I  am  no  man's 
enemy,  hence,  every  man's  friend." 

"  Ay,"  threw  in  the  busy  landlord.  "  No  ceremony 
with  the  Doctor.  And  all  good  Whigs  know  him  well 
by  sight." 

"  You  seem  a  traveller,"  went  on  the  doctor ;  "  yet 
you  have  no  cloak.  Brr !  But  you  are  young.  So  once 
was  I,  and  cared  not  for  the  cold.  Sir,  sometimes  I 


Whigs,  Tories,  and  Redcoats  87 

think  too  much  of  liquor  dries  up  the  blood  within  us. 
Yet  landlord,  that  toddy !  " 

"  Here,  sir,"  responded  the  landlord  proudly.  "  And 
steaming  hot.'' 

"  Not  too  fast/'  said  the  doctor,  throwing  his  cloak 
aside.  "  Stand  still,  friend  Jones.  I  will  improvise. 

Welcome,  thou  friend  to  man. 
Deny  thee,  he  who  can  ! 

A  health  to  you  both  !  " 

He  reached  for  the  toddy,  and  took  a  long  draught. 
Then  he  looked  at  his  two  hearers.  "  Ah,"  he  said  with 
satisfaction,  and  as  one  accustomed  to  have  the  floor. 
"  We  who  are  out  in  all  weathers  need  good  homespun 
cloaks,  and  warming  wine." 

"  Homespun !  "  said  the  landlord.  "  I  can't  be  satis- 
fied, Doctor,  to  see  you  in  such  clothes.  You  who  look 
so  well  in  silk  and  broadcloth." 

"  Nay,"  protested  the  doctor,  grave  at  once.  "  True 
patriots,  whether  gentlemen  or  farmer,  professional 
man  or  shipyard  laborer,  are  all  honoured  by  adhering 
to  the  non-consumption  agreement.  If  I,  who  am  not 
insignificant " 

"  Hear  him !  "  appealed  the  landlord  to  the  ceiling. 

"  If  I  should  wear  English  cloth,  why  then  should 
any  one  wear  homespun.  Or  if  I  should  drink  tea " . 

"  Tea !  "  cried  a  voice  at  the  door.  "  Lads,  can  you 
picture  Doctor  Church  drinking  anything  so  weak  as 
tea?" 

The  bulk  of  a  great  frame  filled  the  doorway;  there 
stood  one  who  was  neither  boy  nor  man.  But  he  was 
all  good-nature,  from  his  square  shoes  to  the  hat  cocked 
sidewise  on  his  head. '  An  open  face  shone  with  humour, 
his  blue  eyes  twinkled,  and  his  white  teeth  showed  as  he 
roared  with  laughter.  Lesser  voices  from  behind 


88  The  Colonials 

chimed  in,  and  other  faces,  as  he  threw  his  greatcoat 
open,  peered  grinning  above  his  shoulders. 

But  the  doctor  took  another  sip  of  his  toddy,  un- 
abashed. "  Come  in,  Dickie  Ellery,"  he  said. 

The  traveller  looked  at  the  lad  in  the  door,  who,  as 
he  took  off  his  hat,  showed  himself  clearer.  Brcwn 
curls  fell  above  his  temples  and  strayed  upon  his  fore- 
head; the  eyes  were  boyish  and  the  mouth  pleasant. 
It  was  a  cheerful  but  not  yet  a  manly  face,  and  the  char- 
acter that  lay  behind  it  was  still  unformed.  The 
traveller  turned  about,  and  took  a  chair  in  the  shadow, 
as  the  lad,  with  half  a  dozen  others  following  him, 
entered  the  room. 

Dismay  appeared  on  the  landlord's  face.  Here  were 
Whig  and  Tory  front  to  front;  the  young  hot-heads 
were  ready  to  provoke  words.  But  the  doctor  looked 
at  the  young  fellows  as  they  entered,  and,  smiling,  called 
each  one  by  name — Anthony  Paddock  last,  lank  and 
red-headed. 

"Tea?"  he  asked,  his  voice  high.  "Who  speaks  of 
tea  ?  The  vile  herb." 

"  Go  on  with  your  oration,  Doctor,"  cried  the  great 
lad  who  first  had  come.  "  Landlord,  a  punch  for  us  all, 
before  the  stage  starts.  Go  on  with  your  oration, 
Doctor  Church.  What,  lads,  shall  we  hear  of  the  fifth 
of  March?" 

"Shame  !"  said  the  landlord,  half  in  entreaty.  "Shame, 
Master  Ellery,  to  joke  at  the  Doctor.  And  you  in 
broadcloth!  Your  father  was  a  Whig." 

"  Jones,"  said  Dickie,  "  be  quiet." 

"  Be  quiet,"  cried  the  tall  thin  youth.  "  Be  quiet !  " 
roared  the  others.  "  Dickie  is  as  good  a  Tory  as 
Hutchinson  himself." 

"  What,  Doctor,"  cried  Dickie  again.  "  Shall  we  have 
a  speech  while  the  punch  is  making?" 


Whigs,  Tories,  and  Redcoats  89 

"  I  could  give  you  a  speech,"  said  the  doctor  slowly. 
He  was  master  of  his  voice ;  the  tones  silenced  them  all 
with  their  meaning.  The  Tory  lads  stood  listening,  their 
greatcoats  still  unbuttoned.  "  I  could  give  you  a 
speech,  Dickie  Ellery,  of  the  fifth  of  March,  that  would 
make  you  wince." 

"  Go  on,"  cried  Dickie.  "  Go  on.  What  has  the  fifth 
of  March  to  do  with  me?  " 

"  On  the  fifth  of  March,  three  years  ago,"  said  the 
doctor,  "  you  know  what  happened.  The  soldiers  of 
the  King  massacred  citizens  of  Boston." 

"  Street  louts,"  cried  the  red-haired  Tory  suddenly. 
"  Riff-raff !  " 

"  Silence,  Anthony !  "  cried  they  all. 

"They  were  men  of  the  poorer  class,"  said  the 
doctor.  "  They  were  not  riff-raff.  But  neither  street 
louts  nor  riff-raff  stood  before  the  soldiers,  within  the 
hour,  and  defied  them  to  fire  again." 

"  Would  they  had  fired !  "  cried  the  red-haired. 

"  Well  that  they  did  not ! "  answered  the  doctor 
warmly.  "  Else  had  the  streets  of  Boston  run  so  red 
that  every  soldier  had  drowned  in  the  flood.  Well  that 
the  colonels  gave  way,  and  the  governor,  and  the  king 
himself.  Who  can  tell  the  consequences  else?  But  'tis 
not  of  this  I  speak,  to  you  lads  that  know  little  of  men's 
thoughts.  Dickie  Ellery,  let  me  repeat.  Within  an  hour 
after  the  massacre  the  best  citizens  of  Boston  stood 
before  the  soldiers'  guns,  demanding  justice.  And 
among  them,  in  the  very  front  rank,  was  a  lad  of  less 
than  your  own  age — eighteen  years.  He  stood,  ready 
to  give  his  blood  for  the  rights  of  the  province. 

"  I  saw  him  there,"  said  the  doctor.  "  I  came  from 
the  death-bed  of  the  murdered  men  and  saw  that  boy 
standing  bravely.  No  such  figure  as  yours,  with  your 
great  strength.  He  was  thin  and  pale,  even  sickly; 


90  The  Colonials 

but  the  fire  of  courage  burned  in  his  eye,  the  blood  of 
a  good  race  ran  in  his  veins.  And  I  can  tell  you,  if 
you  wish  to  know,  what  position  that  lad's  forefathers 
hold  in  the  history  of  Boston." 

Dickie's  high  head  was  drooping.  Anthony  inter- 
rupted no  more.  All  the  lads  stood  quiet,  and  even  the 
landlord  stopped  in  his  mixing  to  listen.  Keenly  the 
traveller  watched  from  his  corner. 

"  That  lad's  great-grandfather,"  went  on  the  doctor, 
his  deep  voice  impressive,  "  was  one  of  Boston's  leaders 
against  Andros.  His  grandfather  was  a  foremost  mer- 
chant. His  father  was  a  defender  of  liberty,  a  staunch 
Whig,  an  honourable  gentleman,  a  friend  of  Mr.  Otis, 
of  Mr.  Hancock,  and  of  Doctor  Warren.  I  also  claim 
him  for  my  friend.  And  that  night,  when  I  saw  the  boy 
standing  so  firm,  I  said  to  myself:  Boston  may  still  be 
proud  of  the  good  old  stock.  And  yet,  on  the  second 
day  after,  my  pride  in  the  boy  was  turned  to  sorrow. 
For  I  heard  " — the  doctor  lowered  his  voice,  yet  it 
thrilled  in  the  room — "  that  he  was  drowned  in  the 
harbour." 

The  traveller  started  and  almost  spoke.  Dickie  stood 
with  bowed  head.  His  companions  looked  at  him  curi- 
ously. And  the  doctor,  very  composedly  finishing  his 
toddy,  turned  and  set  the  mug  upon  the  mantel.  Then 
he  looked  at  Dickie  again. 

"  And  you  are  a  Tory,"  he  finished.  "  You  trust  the 
uncle  who  sent  your  brother  to  his  death." 

But  the  red-haired  suddenly  spoke  again.  "  Good 
riddance  to  him,  then,"  he  cried.  "  One  Whig  the  less !  " 

"  Silence !  "  thundered  Dickie.  He  whirled  upon  his 
friend.  His  great  chest  heaved;  his  fists  were  like 
mallets.  "  Anthony,  I  could  kill  you ! — My  brother 
Frank !  "  He  turned  away  from  them  all,  toward  the 
door. 


Whigs,  Tories,  and  Redcoats  91 

They  caught  his  arms.  "  Dickie,  don't  go !  "  they 
cried.  "  Please — Dickie  !  Anthony's  tipsy,"  they  urged. 
"  Anthony's  fuddled.  He'll  beg  your  pardon.  Won't 
you,  Anthony?  " 

"  And  I  apologise,  Dickie,"  said  the  doctor,  "  for 
touching  an  old  sore." 

"  An  old  sore,"  said  Dickie  in  a  dull  voice.  "  An  open 
wound !  It  bleeds  a  little,  every  day." 

Anthony  came  forward  manfully.  "  Forgive  me,"  he 
said. 

"  I  forgive,"  said  Dickie.  He  looked  at  him,  then  at 
the  others.  "  Oh,  lads,  do  you  forgive  me.  Politics, 
politics !  Where  shall  we  end  some  day,  with  these 
politics  ?  " 

The  cloud  had  passed.  "  I  can  tell  you,"  said  the 
doctor  in  a  lighter  tone.  "  Under  the  pump,  where  the 
Whigs  will  put  you  to  cool  your  heads." 

Dickie  made  no  answer,  but  Anthony  took  the  doctor 
up.  "  And  you  under  lock  and  key,  as  madmen,"  he 
retorted. 

"  Come,"  said  the  doctor,  and  he  stepped  to  the  bar. 
"  I  see  your  punch  is  ready.  A  glass  all  round.  Then 
I  must  go.  Come,  Master  Paddock,  a  toast." 

The  glasses  were  filled.  "  A  toast?  "  asked  Anthony, 
in  his  thin  voice.  "  Ay,  here's  for  you.  A  hard  bed 
for  every  Whig,  hard  nuts  to  crack  with  his  teeth,  hard 
answers  to  his  petitions  to  the  king,  and  hard  sledding 
to  preferment !  " 

Dickie  had  refused  the  punch,  and  was  silent.  But 
the  rest  laughed.  The  doctor  raised  his  glass. 

"  Then  here's  for  you,"  he  cried,  his  jovial  voice 
ringing.  "  Cobweb  breeches  for  you  all,  hedgehog 
saddles,  hard-gaited  horses,  and  perpetual  riding  for 
every  Tory  in  America !  " 

He  tossed  off  his  punch,  threw  down  his  coin,  and  was 
gone. 


CHAPTER  II 

BOSTON     TOWN 

From  the  dark  sky  looked  down  the  frosty  stars.  Tfye 
traveller  and  Dickie  Ellery,  sitting  side  by  side  upon  the 
box  of  the  stage,  were  sunk  in  thought.  The  two  last 
seats  seemed  miles  behind ;  the  unrhythmic  songs  were 
unheard;  the  cracking  of  the  whip,  the  jingling  bells, 
were  unnoticed.  Dickie  crossed  his  arms  upon  his  chest, 
sunk  his  head,  nodded,  and  sighed.  Occasionally  the 
traveller  stole  glances  at  the  lad  by  his  side,  but  in  the 
dark  saw  little.  Dickie  was  unhappy,  that  much  could 
be  guessed. 

The  stage  breasted  a  rise  at  last,  topped  the  hill, 
and  paused  before  the  descent.  Clear  in  the  distance, 
a  mile  or  so  away,  were  the  lights  of  a  town. 

"  Boston,"  said  the  driver. 

Boston!  the  traveller  drew  a  breath,  and  leaned  for- 
ward. He  saw  the  lines  of  streets,  and  even  distin- 
guished the  faces  of  houses  in  the  distant  dots  of  yellow. 
Away  to  the  right  was  the  harbour,  reflecting  the  ships 
at  anchor.  Boston ! 

Other  roads  joined  theirs  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  and 
now  increased  the  steady  stream  of  people  moving  to- 
ward Boston.  Here  was  a  couple,  there  a  group  on 
foot,  and  again  was  a  waggon-load  of  men.  Through 
them  the  quicker  stage  threaded  its  way.  "  Look  at 
them,"  said  one  of  the  young  men.  "  And  all  these 
people  stirring  on  account  of  a  little  tea." 


Whigs,  Tories,  and  Redcoats  93 

Anthony  cursed  them  promptly.  "  May  their  eyes 
drop  out !  May  they  never  find  their  way  home !  May 
their  wives  never  brew  them  another  dish  of  tea !  " 

The  road  was  continually  more  crowded;  they  went 
slower.  Crossing  the  Neck  they  heard  the  water  lapp- 
ing on  the  beach,  and  the  traveller  sniffed  the  salt  smell. 
A  little  further,  and  they  came  to  the  first  houses  of  the 
town.  The  way  became  more  difficult ;  vehicles  and  men 
on  foot  blocked  the  road.  The  stage  fell  in  behind  at 
a  walk ;  those  in  the  rear  closed  up.  They  were  at  last 
in  the  middle  of  a  throng  slowly  moving  forward.  But 
there  was  little  noise ;  the  loose  crowd  pushed  on 
silently. 

The  stage  turned  aside  at  the  first  cross  street,  and 
came  into  less  crowded  ways.  The  harbour  breeze  of 
mid-December  cut  the  faces,  but  the  traveller  breathed 
it  eagerly.  He  studied  his  surroundings.  How  low  and 
weather-beaten  seemed  the  houses  in  these  Boston 
lanes.  A  man's  eyes  measure  differently  from  a  boy's. 

Though  the  streets  were  freer,  he  could  not  miss  the 
signs  of  political  excitement.  The  question  of  the  tea- 
tax  was  a  mere  matter  of  privilege;  the  insignificant 
duty  was  no  hardship  to  the  colonists.  But  they  denied 
the  right  to  tax  at  all,  and  from  Maine  to  Georgia  they 
stood  together  on  this  question.  Shrewdly  the  London 
leaders  had  sent  to  the  colonies  cargoes  of  tea  to  try 
the  American  temper  at  all  points.  At  New  York, 
Philadelphia,  Charleston,  Annapolis,  the  tea-ships  had 
arrived  or  were  expected.  But  Boston  was  the  brain 
and  heart,  even  in  those  early  days  the  backbone  of 
political  opposition.  The  whole  of  free-settled  America 
(Canada  was  a  conquered  province)  was  waiting  for 
Boston  to  say  what  should  be  done. 

The  Bostonians  knew  it.  Stubbornly  against  the 
landing  of  the  tea,  they  were  determined  to  be  rid  of 


94  The  Colonials 

the  three  cargoes  now  lying  at  their  wharves.  They  had 
tried  every  way  out  of  the  difficulty,  save  one — the  way 
of  violence.  At  the  hour  when  the  stage  entered 
Boston,  the  town-meeting  sat  in  silence  within  the  Old 
South  Church,  waiting  the  answer  to  its  final  petition 
to  the  governor,  and  pondering  John  Rowe's  question : 
"  Who  knows  how  tea  will  mingle  with  salt  water  ?  " 

Thus  all  the  movement  in  the  streets  was  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  Old  South,  and  where  the  stage  drew  up  at 
the  tavern  in  King  Street  there  was  quiet.  The  pas- 
sengers descended,  the  stage  drove  around  to  the  yard, 
the  young  Tories  entered  the  tavern,  and  only  the 
traveller  and  Dickie  stood  below  the  emblem  of  the 
Bunch  of  Grapes.  The  traveller  was  looking  about 
him,  and  at  the  young  Bostonian.  Dickie  had  con- 
quered his  melancholy  and  was  yawning  gloriously. 

A  little  man  came  hurrying  out  of  the  dusk;  a  quick 
and  nervous  voice  spoke  up :  "  Oh,  Master  Dickie  !  " 
Dickie  came  back  to  earth. 

"Well?"  he  asked.  "Oh,  I  am  stiff!  Well?"  he 
finished  and  looked  down.  "  Oh,  it's  you,  Nick.  What 
is  it?" 

"  Humphreys  is  sick." 

"Worse?" 

The  little  man  nodded,  and  with  the  importance  of  a 
bearer  of  news  he  mingled  the  tribute  of  regret : 
"  Almost  at  his  end." 

"He  wants  me?" 

"  Very  much." 

Dickie  turned  to  his  friends.  They  were  in  the  tavern, 
already  gaining  fresh  strength — but  false — from  new 
potations,  and  he  would  not  be  missed.  "  Well,  Nick, 
I  come  at  once  ? "  But  his  name  was  called  again. 
"  Tis  Uncle." 

A  lean  and  threadbare  man  came  into  the  circle  of 


Whigs,  Tories,  and  Redcoats  95 

light.  He  stooped  slightly  at  the  shoulders,  running 
his  head  forward  so  that  his  eyes  peered  out  sharply 
from  under  his  brows,  as  if  with  suspicion.  His  clothes 
were  neat,  and  his  features  clean-cut ;  but  that  air  of 
suspicion  gave  the  tone  to  his  personality,  seeming  to 
produce  a  stealthly  step  and  a  bearing  of  caution,  while 
even  the  lines  of  his  face  were  so  moulded  that  they 
with  difficulty  assumed,  and  never  long  could  hold,  an 
expression  of  frankness.  This  expression,  however, 
though  to  the  critical  eye  faulty,  at  this  moment  they 
held,  and  the  merchant  governed  his  hasty  steps  into 
the  suggestion  of  a  stride,  as  he  came  to  Dickie  and 
took  him  by  the  arm.  "  Ah,  lad !  "  he  cried,  and  though 
it  rasped,  the  voice  came  briskly.  "  Back  again?  I've 
not  seen  you  these  ten  hours.  Let  us  go  home  to- 
gether." 

Dickie  put  his  hand  upon  his  uncle's,  and  pressed  it 
affectionately.  "  Yes,  sir,  I'm  back,"  he  said.  "  But  I 
am  called  to  Humphreys,  who  is  very  ill,  and  wants  to 
see  me." 

"  Yes,  he's  ill,"  replied  his  uncle,  his  eyes  not  meeting 
Dickie's,  but  resting  on  his  sleeve.  "  Too  ill,  in  fact, 
for  you  to  go.  So  come  with  me." 

"  I've  waited  here  a  half-hour,"  cried  the  little  man, 
who  had  stood  listening.  "  Mr.  Humphreys  wants  to 
see  him  badly." 

The  merchant  turned  on  him.  "  But  I  have  just  been 
there.  The  doctor  came  and  ordered  quiet.  Dickie  lad, 
come  with  me."  He  smote  his  nephew  on  the  shoulder, 
and  in  a  ghastly  fashion  smiled.  "  Come  home,  I've 
much  to  tell  you." 

"  You  see,"  said  Dickie  to  Nick,  "  I'd  best  not  go.  I'm 
obliged  for  your  trouble.  Tell  Humphreys  I  will  come  in 
the  morning.  Good-night."  He  went  with  his  uncle. 

The  traveller  stood  by  the  tavern  wall,  and  followed 


96  The  Colonials 

them  with  his  eyes.  Uncle  and  nephew,  "  crabbed  age 
and  youth,"  went  arm-in-arm.  Dickie's  cheery  laugh 
rang  in  the  street;  he  disengaged  his  arm,  and  laid  it 
across  his  uncle's  shoulder.  The  traveller  shook  his 
head.  "  How  strange  !  "  he  thought.  "  How  strange !  " 

He  was  recalled  to  himself  by  the  angry  sputterings 
of  his  neighbour.  The  little  man  started  away;  the 
other  followed. 

They  went  toward  the  church.  When  they  emerged 
from  JolifF s  Lane  into  Milk  Street  they  came  upon  the 
crowd.  Its  outskirts  reached  to  the  lane ;  it  thick- 
ened nearer  the  church,  beneath  the  walls  of  which  men 
pressed  closely  together,  stood  with  little  movement, 
spoke  few  words,  watched,  and  waited.  Thus  it  had 
remained  for  hours,  and  the  little  man,  recognising  that 
nothing  new  had  happened,  made  no  pause  for  question, 
but  pushed  toward  a  small  house  that  stood  across  the 
street,  opposite  the  rear  of  the  church.  He  reached  it, 
and  turned  down  a  side  passage  to  its  door.  As  he 
fitted  a  key  to  the  lock,  the  traveller  laid  a  hand  upon 
his  arm. 

The  little  man  scarcely  turned.  "  I  am  not  working 
to-night,"  he  said  over  his  shoulder.  "  Not  for  all 
comers,  that  is.  There  is  another  barber  on  Hanover 
Street." 

"  I  must  see  Mr.  Humphreys,"  said  the  other. 

The  little  man  shook  his  head.    "  He  is  very  ill." 

"  Therefore  I  must  surely  see  him.  Take  him  this 
message.  I  have  come  from  a  long  distance  to  see  him. 
My  father  and  he  were  friends." 

Nick  opened  the  door.    "  Wait  here." 

"  It  is  cold." 

"  Wait  here."  The  little  man  slipped  inside,  shut  and 
locked  the  door.  The  other  stood  in  surprise:  in  Boston 
the  latch-string  was  always  out.  He  waited,  striking 


Whigs,  Tories,  and  Redcoats  97 

a  numb  foot  against  the  step,  listening  to  the  murmur 
of  the  crowd,  and  watching  the  silent  church,  its  dim 
windows  prophesying  strangely,  its  spire  vanishing  in 
blackness. 

At  length  Nick  opened  the  door.    "  Come  in." 

The  house  was  dark.  As  the  traveller  entered,  Nick 
took  him  by  the  sleeve.  "  This  way,  quickly,"  he  said, 
and  urged  him  to  the  right. 

The  traveller  smelt  the  smoke  of  candles  just  extin- 
guished. The  coals  of  a  wood  fire  glowed  in  a  fireplace. 
He  peered  about  him.  Figures  sat  motionless  against 
the  wall. 

"  This  way,"  insisted  Nick. 

The  traveller  followed  into  a  passage-way.  Nick 
closed  the  door  behind.  He  opened  another,  and  light 
came.  A  candle  stood  on  narrow  stairs.  Nick  raised  it, 
and  stepped  back.  "  Go  on  up,"  he  said. 

The  traveller  went  up  the  stairs,  worn  by  many  feet  for 
many  years  since  the  baby  Franklin  was  carried  down 
them  on  the  way  to  his  chilly  christening.  Nick's  candle 
lighted  him  from  below ;  from  above  light  streamed  out 
upon  a  landing.  He  reached  it,  paused,  and  looked  into 
a  chamber.  "  In  there,"  said  Nick  briefly,  and  closed 
the  door  below. 

It  was  many  minutes,  indeed  a  full  hour,  before  the 
traveller  again  descended.  He  came  slowly,  pausing  at 
each  step,  thinking,  doubting.  He  opened  the  entry 
door  quietly,  stood  a  moment,  and  opened  the  door  to 
the  front  room.  He  had  forgotten  the  mystery  of  his 
first  entrance. 

There  had  been  silence.  At  once  was  noise  and  con- 
fusion. In  the  full  light  of  candles  Nick  the  barber, 
between  surprise  and  rage,  stood  motionless.  But  a 
man  sprang  up  from  beneath  Nick's  ministering  hands, 
his  face  half-daubed  with  paint,  his  hair  stuck  through 
7 


98  The  Colonials 

with  feathers.  Three  others,  crudely  but  completely 
disguised,  started  forward  from  their  chairs.  One  leaped 
to  the  mantel  and  blew  out  a  candle.  The  traveller  took 
the  remaining  light  and  held  it  above  his  head. 

The  man  half-painted  stooped  to  the  hearth.  Four 
hatchets  leaned  against  the  jamb ;  the  man  seized  one, 
its  sharp  edge  gleaming.  "  Who  are  ye  ?  "  he  cried  as  he 
rose  again.  "Who  is  he,  Nick?" 

"  Put  down  the  candle,"  ordered  Nick.  "  Put  it  out ! 
Why  come  ye  spying?  " 

"  A  spy !  "  exclaimed  the  others.  They  stepped  closer, 
a  dangerous  ring.  The  traveller  read  their  temper  in 
their  eyes. 

He  turned  to  the  barber.  "  Nick,"  he  said,  "  Mr. 
Humphreys  is  dead." 

"  Dead !  "  they  echoed.  Nick  unclenched  his  hands. 
The  man  with  the  hatchet  dropped  his  arm,  and  the 
others  drew  back  into  the  corner  of  the  room. 

The  traveller  put  the  candle  down.  "  Will  you  come 
and  help  me  lay  him  on  the  bed?"  he  asked  of  Nick. 
"  And  I  think  you  should  take  charge  of  his  effects." 

"  I  will  come,"  said  Nick.  "  But — ye  will  say  nothing 
of  us?" 

The  traveller  turned  his  back.  "  What  care  I  how 
you  masquerade,"  he  said.  He  went  into  the  entry. 
Nick  followed  and  closed  the  door. 

They  laid  the  dead  man  on  the  bed,  and  straightened 
the  limbs.  "  Left  he  any  message  ?  "  asked  Nick.  "  Or 
went  he  suddenly?" 

"  Suddenly.  He  said  something,  just  before,  of  that 
secretary,  and  young  Ellery.  That  is  all." 

"  Ay,"  said  Nick,  "  there  is  money  in  it.    What  now?  " 

There  was  a  step  on  the  stair.  They  turned  and 
looked.  A  figure  appeared  at  the  door,  and  Nick 
started  forward,  respectful.  "  Doctor  Warren !  " 


Whigs,  Tories,  and  Redcoats  99 

The  traveller  was  in  the  shadow  beyond  the  bed.  He 
saw  a  graceful  figure  at  the  door,  of  middle  height  and 
well  proportioned.  The  head  was  held  a  little  forward ; 
the  expression  of  the  face  earnest.  Dignity  and  worth 
sat  upon  Dr.  Warren;  force,  enthusiasm,  devotion,  were 
all  to  be  read  in  his  countenance.  With  one  glance 
at  the  traveller  that  seemed  able  to  pierce  even  dark- 
ness, the  doctor  went  to  the  bedside,  looked  into  the 
dead  man's  face,  touched  the  wrist,  and  thought  briefly. 
Then  he  turned  to  Nick.  "  Who  was  with  him  ?  "  he 
asked. 

Nick  indicated  the  traveller. 

"  Come  into  the  light,"  said  the  doctor,  and  the  trav- 
eller, as  in  obedience  to  a  military  superior,  stepped  for- 
ward and  met  the  doctor's  eye.  When  he  left  the  room 
it  was  with  admiration  of  the  doctor,  and  with  a 
feeling  of  relief  from  the  keenest  scrutiny  he  had  ever 
undergone.  The  house  below  seemed  now  silent  and 
deserted,  and  he  let  himself  into  the  street.  "  That," 
he  said,  thinking  of  the  doctor,  "  is  a  man !  "  He  went 
and  mingled  with  the  crowd. 


CHAPTER    III 

TEA    AND    SALT    WATER 

The  great  meeting  was  silent  in  the  Old  South 
Church.  A  few  candles  lit  the  edifice,  casting  shadows 
into  corners,  revealing  but  uncertainly  the  hundreds  of 
faces  ranged  within  the  pews.  The  meeting  was  wait- 
ing; there  was  no  discussion.  Hours  before,  the  citizens 
had  resolved  that  the  tea  should  on  no  account  be 
landed.  They  had  sent  Rotch,  the  owner  of  the  first 
of  the  tea-ships,  to  carry  a  message  to  the  governor  at 
Milton,  demanding  that  the  ships  be  allowed  to  clear  for 
London.  Since  then,  only  murmurs  had  passed  through 
the  church.  Doctor  Church  arrived  late,  and  for  him 
they  made  room  where  there  was  none  before.  Doctor 
Warren  went  out,  to  the  wonderment  of  some ;  he  re- 
turned in  a  quarter-hour,  to  their  relief.  Still,  in  the 
dim  church,  the  citizens  sat  patient. 

Doctor  Warren  took  his  seat  again  by  Church's  side. 
"What  has  happened?"  asked  the  older  man,  turning 
his  eyes,  a  little  haggard,  on  his  more  active  colleague. 
"Was  your  patient  dead?"  He  read  a  change  in 
Warren's  countenance. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Doctor  Warren.  "  Apoplexy."  As 
if  unwilling  to  speak  further,  he  dropped  his  eyes  and 
shook  his  head. 

Without  and  within,  the  great  crowd  waited.  The 
light  in  the  west  had  gone ;  dusk  departed,  night  came. 
Then  at  last  was  heard  at  the  door  of  the  church  the 


Whigs,  Tories,  and  Redcoats  101 

stumbling  of  a  tired  horse.  The  crowd  upon  the  stairs 
made  way  for  a  man  as  weary  as  his  steed,  and  through 
the  church  the  whisper  passed,  "  Rotch  has  returned !  " 

The  meeting  roused  into  life.  Prentice  and  merchant, 
tradesman  and  workman,  looked  each  at  his  neighbour. 
Then  all  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  ship-owner  as  he 
passed  to  the  platform,  all  ears  were  ready  for  his 
words.  The  moderator  met  Rotch;  a  question  was 
given  and  answered.  Then  the  moderator  turned  to  the 
meeting :  "  The  governor  has  refused  a  clearance !  " 

One  long  universal  breath ;  then  cries  of  anger. 
Figures  sprang  to  their  feet ;  there  was  an  instant's 
tumult,  quickly  stilled.  Above  the  confusion  rose  calls 
to  order ;  the  impulsive  ones  were  pulled  back  into  their 
seats.  "  Be  quiet !  "  said  their  neighbours.  There  was 
stillness  in  the  church  again,  while  the  last  questions 
were  asked. 

"  Mr.  Rotch,"  said  the  moderator,  "  will  you  tell  the 
meeting  if,  on  your  own  responsibility,  you  will  order 
the  ship  to  leave  the  town?" 

The  Quaker  stood  firm ;  his  aspect  was  honest.  "  I 
cannot,"  he  answered  clearly.  '"  The  ship  would  be  con- 
fiscated. It  would  ruin  me." 

"  Will  you  attempt,  then,  to  land  the  tea  to-morrow?  " 

"  If  called  upon  to  do  so  by  the  customs  house  offi- 
cials, I  must." 

Silence  now,  a  silence  of  minutes.  But  all  thoughts, 
all  glances,  were  fixed  upon  one  man,  Samuel  Adams. 
What  will  Samuel  Adams  say? 

One  moment  pause,  and  think.  There  was  Boston, 
a  little  town  of  few  inhabitants.  Its  scattered  buildings 
scarce  covered  a  square  mile  of  the  whole  surface  of  the 
earth.  It  was  a  part  of  the  new  world,  and  partook  of 
its  crudeness.  Within  the  wooden  walls  of  its  principal 
church  were  gathered  some  fifteen  hundred  men,  not 


IO2  The  Colonials 

one  of  them  distinguished  either  by  title  or  by  fame. 
They  had  assembled  to  protest  against  the  act  of  one 
of  the  greatest  monarchs  of  the  globe. 

Did  any  know  this  was  a  crisis  in  world's  history? 
How  many  looked  forward  to  the  change  which  the 
next  minute  would  begin  ?  Who  foresaw  that  from  that 
hour  would  date  the  separation  of  two  peoples?  One 
man  sat  there,  busy  with  great  thoughts.  His  was  the 
master-mind  of  Massachusetts.  But  who  of  all  that 
waited  for  his  speech  guessed  the  far-reaching  import 
of  his  words? 

Samuel  Adams  looked  about  him,  and  caught  the  eye 
of  Doctor  Warren.  The  doctor  nodded  slightly.  His 
eye  passed  to  Doctor  Church,  who  nodded  also ;  to  Mr. 
Hancock,  upon  whose  lip  a  flitting  smile  appeared, 
almost  a  sneer,  whose  eye  spoke  with  meaning.  He 
met  the  glance  of  Paul  Revere,  who  frowned  and  nodded 
Yes,  and  caught  the  eye  of  Molineux,  whose  face  was 
set  in  inflexible  resolution.  Then  slowly  Samuel  Adams 
rose  to  his  feet. 

There  was  absolute  silence  in  the  church.  As  the 
hush  before  an  earthquake — nay,  as  the  stillness  of 
nations  when  they  wait  for  an  emperor  to  pronounce 
judgement,  in  such  a  quiet  the  men  of  Boston  waited 
for  Samuel  Adams  to  speak.  And  he,  as  he  spoke, 
knew  that  his  words,  though  simple  in  their  sound, 
meant  defiance  to  the  king  of  England. 

"  This  meeting  can  do  nothing  more  to  save  the 
country." 

That  was  all.  Then  came  the  abrupt  sound  of  hun- 
dreds of  people  rising  to  their  feet.  Without  words  the 
meeting  was  dissolved,  and  the  men  of  Boston  turned 
their  backs  upon  the  scene  of  their  long  waiting. 
Tamely  to  return  to  their  homes?  Steadily,  sturdily, 
they  left  the  place. 


Whigs,  Tories,  and  Redcoats  103 

The  church  was  half  empty,  but  the  leaders  had  not 
moved.  A  few  of  them  spoke  together,  but  all  seemed 
to  be  waiting,  listening.  Somewhere  in  the  streets 
without  sounded  a  cry.  Then  came  another  and  another, 
then  a  whole  burst  of  sound.  Noises  strange  to  Boston 
rose  upon  the  air.  Doctor  Church  caught  Doctor 
Warren  by  the  arm.  "  Come,"  he  said,  "  what  is  this  ? 
Let  us  see."  He  pushed  quickly  to  the  side  door,  and 
out  into  the  porch. 

From  the  steps  they  looked  down  upon  a  sea  of  faces, 
faintly  illumined  by  the  scattered  lights.  People  were 
pushing,  crowding,  craning  their  necks.  Something  was 
coming.  What  was  it?  There — at  the  corner  of  the 
church,  beneath  the  lamp — a  gleam  of  steel.  And  then 
again  that  cry. 

"  By  Jove,"  cried  Doctor  Church,  clapping  the  other 
on  the  shoulder,  "  the  war-whoop!  "  He  knew  that  eyes 
were  on  him ;  he  pretended  surprise.  "  Indians,  as  I 
live !  " 

The  cry  came  again,  and  again,  and  again.  At  the 
corner  began  a  commotion,  arms  were  tossed,  weapons 
were  lifted  high.  Not  swords,  but  hatchets,  and  below 
were  feathered  heads  and  painted  faces.  The  war-cries 
multiplied,  and  resounded  in  the  narrow  place.  The 
crowd  pushed  apart,  and  down  the  living  lane  came 
hurrying  a  motley  band  of  shouting  figures.  Then 
across  the  way  the  whoop  was  answered,  and  from  the 
little  house  more  Indians  came  rushing,  broke  through 
the  crowd,  and  fell  in  with  the  rest.  The  IndiaVi  cries 
rose  louder,  but  among  them  now  were  distinguished 
English  words  :  "To  Griffin's  wharf !  To  the  tea-ships  !" 

The  people  comprehended  slowly.  At  first,  in  aston- 
ishment, they  were  silent.  But  one  understood  quicker 
than  the  rest,  and  gave  his  welcome  to  the  Indian  troop. 
Doctor  Warren,  looking  among  the  crowd,  found  one 


IO4  Thc  Colonials 

clear-lit  face,  and  on  it  fixed  his  eyes.  It  was  a  young 
man's  face,  fired  with  enthusiasm.  In  sudden  exultation 
at  the  purpose  of  his  countrymen,  this  man  raised  his 
hand  and  struck  it  on  his  mouth.  He  gave  out  the  real 
war-whoop,  the  terrible  sas-sa-kwi.  It  rang  above  its 
feebler  imitations,  palpitated  in  all  ears,  and  struck  into 
an  instant's  silence  the  Indians  themselves.  Fists 
clenched,  hearts  beat  faster  at  the  sinister  cry,  and 
startled  listeners  gasped. 

"  My  God !  "  cried  Doctor  Church.     "  Hear  that !  " 

Doctor  Warren  did  not  move. 

The  sound  died.  In  answer  rose  from  every  side  a 
roar  of  fierce  applause.  Doctor  Warren  lost  sight  of 
the  young  man,  as  Indians  and  crowd  swept  onward  to 
the  wharves. 


CHAPTER    IV 

THE    ELLERY    HOUSE 

t 

From  the  walls  of  the  old  Ellery  library  the  family 
portraits  still  looked  down,  challenging  the  admiration 
of  their  descendants,  but  in  vain,  if  admiration  meant 
imitation.  The  grim  great-grandfather,  Francis,  in  coat 
of  tin  and  hat  of  lead  (artist  unknown)  pointed  with 
drawn  sword  and  deadly  frown  at  Fort  Hill,  from  the 
staff  of  which  the  royal  flag  was  coming  down — a  Whig 
reminiscence  of  the  year  1689.  The  grandfather, 
Thomas,  smiled  sternly  upon  the  beholder,  and  if  his 
habiliments  were  less  metallic  and  his  features  more 
natural,  it  was  because  they  were  limned  by  the  hand 
of  Smibert.  But  this  picture  also  recalled  Whig  tradi- 
tions, for  the  same  fort  upon  the  hill  was  emitting  a 
salute,  and  various  casks  and  boxes  piled  upon  a  beach 
hinted  at  defiance  of  royal  authority  by  means  of  the 
gentle  device  of  smuggling.  A  further  advance  in  art 
showed,  by  the  brush  of  Copley,  Francis  Ellery  the 
second,  seated  in  a  chair,  in  the  background  men  spin- 
ning rope,  and  at  his  feet  a  torn  copy  of  the  Stamp  Act. 

Now  in  '73  the  "  friends  of  government "  did  not 
care  to  be  reminded  of  the  fate  of  Andros,  of  whose 
guard  old  Francis  Ellery  the  first  was  said  to  have 
been.  Nor  did  a  hint  of  smuggling  bring  forth  any 
pleasanter  suggestion  than  of  John  Hancock,  the 
case  of  whose  sloop,  the  "  Liberty,"  was  fresh  in  every 
Boston  mind,  and  was  still  aired  daily  in  the  courts. 


106  The  Colonials 

And  as  for  the  Stamp  Act,  Tories  ground  their  teeth 
at  the  remembrance  of  its  repeal,  condemning  that 
faint-hearted  abandonment  of  the  principles  of  taxation 
as  the  encouragement  of  "  the  faction,"  in  their  subse- 
quent, and  present-day,  unbearable  boldness. 

Therefore  it  was  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  the 
Ellerys  who  still  remained,  while  they  allowed  their 
ancestors  their  places  upon  the  walls,  did  not  study  their 
features  overmuch,  nor  reflect  upon  their  principles. 
And  though  Dickie,  returning  home  with  his  uncle 
from  the  Bunch  of  Grapes,  glanced  at  them  uneasily 
with  the  words  of  Doctor  Church  in  his  mind,  he  saw 
no  reason  to  change  his  ways.  Yet  their  silent  atten- 
tion was  a  reproach,  which  while  he  resented  he  could 
not  express,  out  of  respect  to  their  memory.  So  he 
felt  impelled  to  drop  his  Tory  talk  with  his  uncle,  and 
wander  out  into  the  streets  again,  which  was  allowed 
upon  promise  that  he  would  not  go  near  the  little 
house  in  Milk  Street. 

Mr.  Ellery,  alone,  drew  up  before  the  fire,  and  with 
certain  papers  from  an  inner  pocket  busied  himself  for 
a  full  half-hour,  cyphering  at  sums.  A  single  candle 
was  enough  for  light,  two  meagre  sticks  upon  the  hearth 
supplied  him  warmth,  as  he  worked  industriously.  But 
he  had  an  ear  for  foreign  sounds,  and  at  the  first  fall 
of  a  foot  upon  the  steps  without  he  thrust  the  papers 
back  in  their  receptacle,  and  began,  though  off  the  key, 
to  hum  a  stave.  He  knew  that  Dickie  had  come  back, 
but  scarcely  had  time  to  wonder  at  the  haste  in  which 
he  came. 

"  Uncle,"  cried  Dickie,  bursting  into  the  room. 
"  Uncle !  "  he  stood  panting. 

He  was  angry — twice  angry.  His  uncle  disarmed 
him  of  one  weapon.  "  What  is  it  ? "  he  asked,  and 
turned  quietly. 


Whigs,  Tories,  and  Redcoats  107 

Dickie  was  no  hand  to  blame  directly.  He  put  the 
cause  of  his  grief  aside,  and  blurted  first  his  greater 
item  of  news.  "  The  tea  is  destroyed !  " 

"  What !  "  cried  Mr.  Ellery. 

"  Every  chest  of  it,"  panted  Dickie,  "  is  thrown  into 
the  harbour.  A  mob  disguised  as  Indians " 

"  The  dirty  villains !  "  exclaimed  his  uncle.  "  Tell  me 
no  more." 

Dickie  came  upon  his  lesser  cause  of  anger,  his 
greater  reason  for  sorrow.  "  And  Humphreys  is  dead," 
he  said. 

Mr.  Ellery  started  from  his  chair.  "When?"  he 
cried.  A  greater  matter  this,  to  him,  than  an  act  of 
world-importance. 

"  Scarce  an  hour  since,"  responded  Dickie.  "  I  met 
Nick  in  the  street.  Oh !  uncle,  Humphreys  wished  to 
see  me  before  he  died."  His  voice  was  eloquent  of  dis- 
tress and  reproach.  He  wished  to  say,  "  You  kept  me 
from  him." 

But  Mr.  Ellery  did  not  heed.  He  took  a  step  toward 
the  door,  and  paused.  "  Who  was  with  him  when  he 
died?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  know  not,"  said  Dickie,  grieved  to  the  heart  at 
his  neglect  of  the  old  servant. 

Mr.  Ellery  hastened  to  the  hall ;  Dickie,  following, 
found  him  with  his  greatcoat  already  on.  "  I  am  going 
out,"  the  uncle  said.  "  I  must  go  at  once  to  Humphreys' 
room.  No,  I  do  not  want  you.  This  is  a  legal  matter. 
Shut  up  the  house — make  all  secure."  He  opened  the 
door,  and  closed  it  behind  him  with  a  clang. 

"  Well !  "  said  Dickie. 

But  he  too  prepared  to  go  out  for  more  news  of  the 
tea.  He  went  to  the  rear  of  the  hall  and  called,  "  Ann ! 
Ann !  "  A  little  woman,  bright-eyed,  grey-haired,  and 


io8  The  Colonials 

thin,  came  at  the  summons,  wiping  her  hands  upon  her 
checked  apron. 

The  news  was  due  her,  but  of  the  tea  he  told  grudg- 
ingly, for  she  would  rejoice.  "  The  tea  is  in  the  harbour, 
Ann,"  he  said.  The  little  woman  clasped  her  hands, 
and  raised  her  wrinkled  face. 

"  Glory  be  to  God !  "  she  cried. 

"  And  Humphreys  is  dead,"  added  Dickie  sulkily. 
The  triumph  of  the  Whigs  made  him  angry.  "  Ann, 
I'm  going  out."  He  followed  his  uncle  out  into  the 
night.  The  little  woman  stood  long  in  the  same  place 
before  she  could  speak.  The  matter  of  the  tea  passed 
out  of  her  mind,  lost  among  other  thoughts. 

"  Humphreys  is  dead !  "  said  Ann  at  length.  "  Hum- 
phreys is  gone !  Then  I'm  the  last."  She  sat  down 
upon  the  great  carved  settle,  and  folded  her  hands  in  her 
lap.  She  was  so  quiet  in  the  shadow,  so  small  a  figure 
in  the  great  house,  that  it  seemed  no  creature  breathed 
within  its  heavy  walls. 

An  enormous  structure  it  was,  the  old  stone  house. 
A  huge,  cold,  cheerless  place ;  no  fit  dwelling,  one  would 
think,  for  just  two  men  to  occupy.  But  Dickie  would 
not  sell  it.  He  could  go  back  in  his  mind  to  the 
day  when  Frank,  pale  and  quiet,  faced  their  uncle  in 
the  library  and  refused  to  sign  a  deed  conveying  the 
house.  Then  he  had  turned  to  Dickie.  "  Father  said, 
'  Never  sell  the  house  or  the  wharf.'  Some  day  I'll 
tell  you  why."  Frank  had  disappeared  that  very  after- 
noon; Dickie  had  been  out  of  the  house — to  him  those 
were  Frank's  last  words.  The  younger  brother  knew 
not  the  reason,  but  loyally  adhered  to  the  rule.  The 
uncle's  pleading :  "  Doctor  Church  will  give  us  a  good 
price  for  the  house,  and  Mr.  Sears  for  the  wharf,""  had 
not  moved  Dickie.  It  was  the  one  point  upon  which 
they  disagreed. 


Whigs,  Tories,  and  Redcoats  109 

So  the  two  Ellerys  stayed  on  in  the  house,  almost 
lost  in  its  immensity.  The  carved  furniture,  the  por- 
traits, Dickie's  own  cheery  personality,  seemed  to  do 
little  to  fill  the  empty  spaces.  The  house  needed  the 
presence  of  a  woman,  and  the  lack  was  not  supplied 
by  Ann,  Benjy's  sister,  small  and  lonely.  She  worked 
silently  every  day,  kept  each  room  clean,  but  the  man- 
sion was  not  to  be  brightened  by  a  mere  servant,  old 
and  sad. 

And  as  Ann  sat  there  in  the  dim-lit  hall  the  shadow 
of  the  house  pressed  heavy  on  her.  Benjy  had  been 
drowned  with  Frank.  Humphreys  was  gone ;  she  was 
the  last — the  last  of  the  Whig  Ellerys  and  their  Whig 
servants,  the  last  to  know  the  secrets  of  those  solid 
walls.  An  impulse  seized  her  to  take  the  candle  from 
the  library,  to  visit  each  room,  and  to  call  up  therein 
the  images  of  the  past. 

Ann  had  seen  the  house  built,  had  witnessed  the  first 
meal  at  its  board.  That  silent  dining-room  had  rung 
a  thousand  times  with  laughter.  Two  generations  of 
children  had  sat  within  it — how  many  feasts,  how  many 
merrymakings  had  been  there,  she  could  not  count. 
Governor  and  councillor,  soldier,  merchant,  traveller, 
royal  commissioner — these  and  more  had  partaken  of 
the  Ellery  hospitality.  Many  pipes  of  noble  wine  had 
gone  by  that  board — tut,  tut,  a  little  smile  came  to  Ann's 
face  at  the  recollection ;  then  vanished,  like  the  faces 
that  were  gone,  like  the  beauty  of  the  faded  hangings — 
or  like  the  glory  of  the  cupboard  that  stood  empty  of  its 
silver. 

The  hall  had  seen  so  many  things,  Ann  could  not 
think  of  one,  or  only  one.  Here  Frank  had  fought  the 
constables  and  delivered  Benjy.  She  shut  the  vision  out, 
she  would  not  think  of  Frank.  The  parlour,  cold  and 
formal,  showed  her  pictures.  Scarlet  coats  and  splendid 


1 1  o  The  Colonials 

dresses,  handsome  forms  of  men  and  women,  moved 
there  to  music;  and  Ann,  upon  the  threshold,  watched 
them  as  they  slow  revolved.  The  courtly  fashions  of 
forgotten  days,  the  stilted  manners  of  an  earlier  time, 
to  her  were  so  familiar  they  were  real.  The  candle- 
light beamed  soft  upon  those  forms,  the  room  grew 
warm  again,  the  breath  of  life  stirred  in  the  inert  air, 
and  sobs  came  crowding  to  the  servant's  breast. 

The  library  was  still  alive ;  here  Dickie  and  his  uncle 
often  sat.  But  there  had  also  sat  old  Thomas  Ellery — 
"  Smuggler  Ellery  " — with  the  gout,  slapping  his  well 
leg, swearing  his  great  oaths, and  jesting  with  his  friends. 
His  pewter  flagon,  which  Ann  once  kept  filled,  still  stood 
upon  the  table.  Here  too  had  sat  Frank's  father,  the 
gentle  merchant  whose  early  death  Boston  still  deplored. 
She  looked  at  their  portraits ;  Ann  did  not  know  that  an 
English  girl,  three  thousand  miles  away,  was  thinking 
of  those  portraits,  of  that  house,  at  that  same  moment. 

So  Ann  wandered  through  the  house,  and  ghosts  met 
her  at  each  turn.  Men  and  women,  children,  guests  and 
servants,  moved  noiseless  in  the  halls  and  rooms,  or 
passed  her  as  she  went  up  the  stair.  She  saw  their  faces 
clearly,  but  alas,  they  could  not  speak. 

Finally  she  came  to  the  closed  door  of  a  chamber. 
She  stretched  her  hand  to  the  knob,  then  let  it  fall ;  she 
could  not  open  that  room.  The  ghost  that  lived  therein 
she  could  not  face.  That  ghost  could  speak,  not  of  the 
past,  but  of  the  future,  every  hope  in  which  was  dead. 
Into  its  face  she  could  not  look ;  its  words  she  could  not 
bear.  That  was  Frank's  room.  Frank  had  been  a  baby 
in  her  arms,  had  been  the  pride  of  her  old  age,  the  hope 
of  the  Ellery  house.  She  strove  to  shut  him  from  her 
mind,  as  every  day  she  strove;  but  now  the  thought  and 
the  mood  were  too  strong  for  her.  She  went  again  to 


Whigs,  Tories,  and  Redcoats  1 1 1 

the  entrance  hall  and  sat  upon  the  settle.  Sorrow  came 
upon  her. 

Oh,  the  helpless  grief  of  age !  To  see  the  shadows 
closing  in,  to  know  the  end  near,  to  look  back  upon  a 
life  of  toil  all  spent  in  vain !  The  wreck  of  a  noble  house 
— that  was  the  pain.  One  after  one  its  men  had  died. 
Dickie,  the  last,  a  boy,  was  tricked  and  duped.  All 
was  wrong.  Her  words  were  nothing;  her  warning 
nothing.  There  was  no  help  any  more.  The  ghost  from 
Frank's  chamber  came  and  stood  over  her.  Ann 
rocked  back  and  forth ;  her  sobs  sounded  in  the  empty 
hall.  At  last  she  fell  upon  her  knees,  and  stretched 
her  hands  upward.  "  Oh,  God,"  she  cried,  "  take  me 
too,  or  send  Frank  again."  Hopeless,  hopeless  appeal. 
There  could  be  no  answer. 

Yet  she  thought  she  heard  a  voice :  "  Frank  will 
return !  " 

She  gasped,  then  checked  her  breath,  and  in  silence 
knelt  and  listened.  Then  came  a  little  sound,  as  of  wood 
sliding  upon  wood.  She  looked  quickly  to  the  wall, 
but  she  could  not  see ;  for  her  eyes  were  blurred  with 
tears.  When  she  wiped  them  with  her  apron,  and 
looked  again,  every  panel  of  the  wainscot  stood  in 
place. 

She  listened — no  more  sounds.  She  rose  trembling 
to  her  feet.  "  What  was  that  ?  "  she  said,  her  voice 
strained.  "  Speak  again  !  " 

No  answer. 

She  stole  to  the  settle  and  took  her  candle.  She 
went  to  the  wall,  and  listened  again,  her  ear  to  the 
wood.  No  sound.  "  Who  was  that?  "  she  cried  loudly. 

Silence  still. 

Timorously  now  she  went  to  the  dining-room,  looking 
all  about  her.  There  was  no  one  there,  the  curtains  of 
the  windows  all  were  drawn.  She  went  to  the  wainscot 


1 1 2  The  Colonials 

near  the  fireplace,  and  laid  her  candle  on  the  mantel- 
piece. With  both  hands  she  touched  the  woodwork, 
pressed  here,  pressed  there.  A  tiny  panel  slipped  aside. 

She  put  her  hand  within  the  cavity,  and  fumbled.  A 
whole  section  of  the  wainscot  moved — a  door  that  no 
one  would  suspect — and  swung  away  upon  a  hinge.  A 
dark  recess  was  shown ;  Ann  took  her  candle  and  slipped 
inside.  She  shut  the  door  behind,  and  looked. about  her 
fearfully. 

The  candle  lit  a  narrow,  musty  space,  strongly 
sheathed  in  rough-hewn  oak.  To  her  right  she  saw  a 
brick  wall,  open  in  one  small  place  to  show  the  back  of 
the  hall  wainscot.  To  the  left  a  winding  stair  ran  up 
and  down ;  beyond  it  was  the  chimney  masonry.  She 
harkened.  Was  there  a  sound,  faint  echoing  from 
below?  She  was  not  sure. 

Trembling,  she  looked  at  the  floor.  She  had  swept 
it  recently;  there  was  no  dust  to  show  footsteps.  She 
crept  to  the  end  of  the  chamber,  and  examined  the 
wainscot.  Had  the  little  panel  been  moved?  She  could 
not  tell. 

In  a  corner  lay  heaps  of  silver  vessels,  black  from 
neglect,  and  by  them  a  brass-bound  box.  They  were 
the  Ellery  plate  and  jewels.  Beside  them  were  six  little 
leather  bags — Ann's  savings  of  fifty  years.  "  Nothing 
has  been  touched !  "  she  whispered. 

Had  really  any  one  been  there?  There  was  one  way 
to  know.  She  held  the  candle  over  the  stair,  looking 
down.  She  never  swept  here,  except  the  first  few  steps. 
A  little  way  down  the  dust  would  show.  Should  she  go  ? 

The  memory  of  the  voice  came  to  her.  As  on  an  owl's 
wing,  fear  swooped  down.  Trembling  violently,  she 
turned,  and  opened  the  door  into  the  dining-room.  She 
stumbled  hastily  out,  and  the  living  air  came  like  a 
blessing.  When  she  had  dosed  the  door  behind  her, 


Whigs,  Tories,  and  Redcoats  1 1 3 

and  the  wall  seemed  solid  as  before,  she  tottered  to  the 
table  and  sat  down  in  one  of  the  chairs.  Upon  the 
board  she  put  her  arms,  and  laid  her  head  upon  them. 
There  she  stayed  until  the  opening  of  the  outer  door 
roused  her. 

She  heard  Dickie's  voice:  "  But  uncle,  you  were  not 
able  to  go  into  the  room?  " 

"  Doctor  Warren,"  snarled  Mr.  Ellery,  "  had  sealed 
up  everything,  and  Nick  would  not  let  me  enter."  He 
flung  his  greatcoat  on  the  settle,  and  stamped  up  the 
stairs. 

Dickie  came  into  the  dining-room.  "  Ann  !  Here  you 
are.  I'm  going  to  bed." 

She  rose.  His  voice  reminded  her  of  his  father. 
Dickie  was  all  she  had  left.  Her  heart  warmed,  then 
yearned  to  him.  "  Dickie,"  she  said  tenderly,  "  shut 
the  door.  Come  here,  lad,  I  will  tell  you  something." 

But  Dickie  had  his  own  thoughts.  He  shook  his 
head.  "  I  know  all  about  it." 

"  Silver  and  jewels?  "  she  said. 

"  Silver  and  jewels,"  retorted  Dickie,  "will  not  restore 
the  tea.  The  king  will  be  terribly  angry.  What  is  it 
you  can  tell  me?  The  names  of  some  of  these  scoun- 
drels of  Indians?  " 

Ann  grew  hard  again.    "  Would  you  tell  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Ay,"  answered  Dickie  sulkily.  "  They  should  hang." 

He  did  not  mean  it,  but  she  flared.  "  I  know  nothing 
of  your  Indians,"  she  cried.  "  But  let  the  silver  and 
jewels  stay  there.  You  shall  never  know." 

Dickie  understood  too  late.  "Father's  silver? — 
mother's  jewels?"  he  asked  hastily. 

Ann  raised  a  shaking  arm.  "  You  Tory,"  she  said. 
"  You  shall  never  know.  No  Tory  shall  know." 

"Ann!"  pleaded  Dickie. 

"  Where  have  you  come  with  your  Toryism  ?  "  she 


H4  The  Colonials 

demanded.  "  All  the  honour,  all  the  prosperity  of  the 
Elle'rys,  was  Whig.  Your  grandfather,  your  father, 
your  brother,  all  were  Whig.  Now  where  are  you  with 
your  Tory  uncle?  Look  at  the  shabbiness  of  the  house, 
the  meanness  of  your  life.  What  figure  does  your  uncle 
make  within  the  town?" 

"  Ann !  "  he  cried,  startled  at  her  vehemence. 

"  And  now  the  news  that  comes  to-night,"  she  went 
on,  her  little  figure  shaking  as  she  brought  forth  each 
fact.  "  Humphreys  is  dead.  Eight  months  he  has  been 
sick.  What  has  become  of  the  business  meanwhile? 
Coming  to  rack.  Did  you  not  know?  I  knew.  Why, 
even  the  Savages  have  ceased  to  buy  the  Ellery  rope. 
Think  of  that,  after  sixty  years  of  trade.  The  hands 
discontented,  the  customers  lost.  Only  Pete,  and  Hum- 
phreys sending  directions  from  his  bed,  have  kept  the 
gates  of  the  yard  open.  Now  what  will  happen?  Do 
you  know  the  business  ?  No !  Your  uncle  ?  'Tis  he 
that  killed  it!  Are  you  proud  of  your  Toryism  now? 
Your  wearing  of  broadcloth  ?  Better  have  worn  home- 
spun and  learned  the  business,  as  Frank  did.  Oh, 
Dickie,  Dickie  !  Ruin  is  coming  to  us  all !  " 

Another  might  have  pitied  him  as  he  stood  aston- 
ished. But  Ann  was  angry.  Breathless  from  the  invec- 
tive, she  turned  to  go.  "  Never  will  I  tell  you  of  the 
jewels  and  the  plate.  Let  them  lie  where  they  are  till 
Frank  comes  back !  " 

"Frank  comes  back?"  echoed  Dickie. 

"  Ay,"  she  retorted  bitterly,  as  she  left  the  room. 
"  His  ghost !  " 


THE    NEW    MANAGER 

The  sleep  of  Mr.  Ellery  that  night  was  troubled. 
Twice  he  rose  and  lit  a  candle,  to  consult  books  which 
he  drew  from  a  receptacle  in  the  wall.  They  were  great 
ledgers,  a  duplicate  set,  it  would  seem,  and  as  he  pored 
over  them  he  frowned  in  the  endeavour  to  think  of  a 
way  out  of  his  difficulty.  For,  as  Ann  had  said  to 
Dickie,  only  Humphreys,  sending  directions  from  the 
sick  room,  had  kept  the  Ellery  business  on  its  feet. 

Mr.  Ellery  began  to  perceive  the  result  of  meddling, 
and  to  wish,  too  late,  that  he  had  held  his  hand.  For 
when,  after  some  warnings,  which  gave  him  some  time 
to  make  all  preparations,  old  Humphreys  was  seized 
with  the  first  of  his  attacks,  the  old  manager  left  the 
most  complete  machine  in  Boston,  a  business  that  could 
run  itself.  In  the  greatest  ship-building  port  in  America, 
where  annually  were  launched  boats  famous  the  world 
over,  it  was  something  to  have  the  largest  business  in 
rope.  The  Ellery  ropewalks  returned  to  their  owner 
a  fine  income,  and  Humphreys  hoped  that  he  had  per- 
fected a  system  which,  human  idiosyncrasies  not  con- 
sidered, would  keep  itself  in  motion  indefinitely. 

The  hands  were  all  experienced,  and  proud  of  the 
reputation  of  the  yard.  The  foreman  was  competent. 
Mr.  Ellery  was  to  attend  to  the  accounts — a  point  on 
which  the  old  manager's  mind  misgave  him,  and  was 
the  weakness  of  the  whole.  For  the  trustee  could  not 


1 1 6  1'he  Colonials 

keep  himself  from  interference,  and  by  little  changes 
here  and  there — notably  the  reduction  of  the  workmen's 
pay,  and  a  crafty  and  suspicious  manner  toward  old 
customers — in  less  than  six  months  brought  the  busi- 
ness to  the  verge  of  ruin.  The  old  hands  left  in  a  body, 
to  be  snapped  up  by  rival  ropemakers.  New  hands, 
unskilled,  made  rope  which  customers  refused  to  buy. 
Pete  the  foreman,  and  Humphreys  helpless  in  his  bed, 
by  repeated  conferences  did  what  they  could;  but 
though  the  frightened  trustee  put  everything  in  their 
hands,  it  was  too  late  to  do  much.  Now  that  Hum- 
phreys was  dead,  Mr.  Ellery  did  not  know  what  way  to 
turn. 

But  poring  over  accounts  did  not  help  him,  unless  the 
reminding  of  an  ambition  unfulfilled  were  help.  The 
fulfilment  of  his  plans  depended  upon  the  aid  of  some- 
one who  could  manage  the  ropewalks.  With  this  un- 
satisfactory conclusion  he  put  away  the  books  and  ex- 
tinguished the  candle  for  a  second  time,  and  restless  in 
his  bed  gnawed  his  knuckles  until  morning. 

Dickie,  fidgeting  at  the  breakfast  table,  kept  glancing 
at  his  uncle's  face,  and  at  the  end  of  the  meal  followed 
him  to  the  library.  Mr.  Ellery,  always  keenly  appre- 
hensive at  any  change  in  his  nephew's  manner,  won- 
dered what  was  to  come.  Dickie  himself  had  spent  a 
night  of  thought,  and  after  one  or  two  false  starts 
succeeded  in  broaching  the  subject  nearest  to  his  mind. 

"Uncle,"  he  blurted  at  last, "I  hear  that  the  business 
is  in  difficulties." 

An  abyss,  long  dreaded,  opened  before  Mr.  Ellery's 
feet.  It  was  as  if  Dickie  had  assumed  the  face  and  voice 
of  his  dead  brother,  and  begun  again  the  old-time  war  of 
interests.  Mr.  Ellery's  heart  began  to  flutter,  as  fear  of 
consequences  rose  up.  This  was  the  mostinconvenient 
time  of  all  for  his  nephewto  rebel.  The  business  known 


Whigs,  Tories,  and  Redcoats  1 1  7 

to  be  in  straits,  Dickie  in  opposition — next  would  appear 
Doctor  Warren  to  repeat  his  threat  of  a  suit  to  change 
the  guardianship.  On  this  last  account  there  was  no 
possibility  of  driving  Dickie  to  Frank's  fate,  therefore 
conciliation  was  the  only  way.  But  at  the  moment  he 
could  not  smooth  his  face,  and  like  the  fox  that  shows 
his  teeth,  he  snarled. 

"Who  is  meddling?"  he  demanded;  "who  told  you 
that  ?  " 

It  happened  that  Mr.  Ellery  had  mistaken  Dickie,  and 
his  instinct  led  him  to  the  proper  speech.  Dickie  was 
not  suspicious.  He  failed  to  read  the  fear  in  his  uncle's 
face,  and  saw  only  the  indignation.  He  felt  that  he 
was  prying. 

"  Why,  Ann,"  he  confessed. 

"  What  do  you  wish  to  say?  "  asked  Mr.  Ellery. 

Dickie  stated  with  hesitation  what  was  in  his  mind. 
"  I  thought  that  maybe  I,  since  I  am  to  own  them  some 
day,  ought  to  enter  the  ropewalks  and  learn  the  trade." 

Here  may  be  seen  how  habit  carries  us  through  diffi- 
culties. Mr.  Ellery  perceived  from  his  nephew's  tone, 
diffident  and  apologetic,  how  complete  his  own  ascen- 
dency was,  and  suddenly  relieved,  went  confidently  for- 
ward. Dickie  was  no  such  lad  as  Frank,  enquiring  and 
persistent. 

"  Out  of  the  question !  "  declared  the  uncle,  and  then 
more  kindly:  "Out  of  the  question,  Dickie  boy.  'Tis 
very  good  of  you  to  wish  to  help  me,  but  I  can  carry  it ' 
through  alone.  Ask  me  nothing  just  now,  in  a  few  days 
I  will  tell  you  all  about  it."  And  so  having  gained  time  ; 
having,  also,  caused  his  nephew  to  forget  that  the  offer 
to  enter  the  business  sprang  not  so  much  from  a  desire 
to  oblige  as  from  a  sense  of  duty,  Mr.  Ellery  escaped 
from  the  house.  His  heart  still  beat  fast  with  the  sense 
of  danger,  not  yet  entirely  avoided,  and  he  sought 


1 1 8  The  Colonials 

eagerly  for  a  straw  of  help.  But  Dickie,  relieved  by 
the  voice  of  authority  from  an  offer  which  meant  work, 
was  free  to  attend  to  other  matters. 

The  town  that  day  was  all  agog.  The  Whigs  had 
taken,  before  the  world,  the  position  from  which  they 
never  retreated.  Boston  had  thrown  down  the  gauntlet 
to  the  king.  While  the  news  travelled  on  slow  packets 
to  his  majesty,  his  representatives  in  Boston  sought  to 
take  the  challenge  up.  Customs  officials,  commis- 
sioners, the  governor  himself,  came  forward  angrily. 
Nothing  so  bold  had  yet  been  done.  The  good  Tories 
were  shocked,  the  zealous  ones  were  furious.  Rewards 
were  offered;  it  was  understood  that  any  participant  in 
the  tea-riot  could  have  pardon,  by  naming  others.  But 
enquiry  was  checked  at  the  outset.  Who  were  the  cul- 
prits ? — whether  a  mere  mob,  or  an  organised  band  from 
the  caucuses — and  who,  more  important,  were  the  insti- 
gators ? — where  was  the  proof  ?  These  were  the  baffling 
questions.  W7ould  any  of  these  Whigs  betray  the  rest  ? 
Whig  as  well  as  Tory  asked  the  last  question.  More 
than  a  hundred  persons  knew  the  secret.  Would  any 
tell? 

Dickie  plunged  into  the  whirl  of  the  excitement  with 
a  boy's  delight  that  something  was  doing.  He  joined 
groups  at ,  street  corners,  visited  the  wharves  to  view 
the  ships,  examined  the  samples  of  the  soggy  tea  which 
were  exhibited  to  rouse  the  indignation  of  all  Tories, 
and  read  the  bulletins  that  already  offered  rewards. 
Unusual  feelings  rose  within  him — a  desire  to  chuckle, 
a  vague  envy  of  the  privilege  of  such  destruction — mere 
boyish  instincts,  but  far  from  the  sensations  proper  to 
one  of  his  party.  When  he  met  Anthony  Paddock,  he 
was  not  of  the  state  of  mind  in  which  he  could  wholly 
sympathise  with  Anthony's  denunciations. 

Anthony  fumed  and  spumed.     "  But  the  actors,"  he 


Whigs,  Tories,  and  Redcoats  1 1 9 

concluded,  "  were  but  tools.  'Tis  these  leaders  of  the 
faction  who  are  the  real  criminals.  Could  we  only 
convict  them  !  If  but  one  of  them  would  tell !  " 

"  Twas  so  cleverly  done  of  them,"  snickered  Dickie, 
"  that  there  is  no  proof." 

"  Clever !  "  repeated  Anthony.  "  'Twas  impudent ! 
But  had  I,  last  night,  been  on  the  wharves,  I  would  have 
arrested  at  least  one  of  the  Indians  with  my  own  hands." 

"  And  instead,"  said  Dickie  drily.  "  You  lay  at  the 
Bunch  of  Grapes,  sleeping  off  your  wine.  'Tis  as  well, 
Anthony.  The  wharves  were  massed  with  Whigs.  You 
could  not  have  got  sight  of  the  ships.  'Tis  even  said 
that  Hancock  was  there,  with  his  cadets  un-uniformed, 
making  a  guard  to  keep  all  Tories  off." 

"  The  fellow  shall  be  tried,"  cried  Anthony. 

"  No  evidence,"  retorted  Dickie. 

In  just  this  way  not  Anthony  alone,  but  other  angry 
Tories  found  themselves  checked  by  cool  fact.  There 
was  no  evidence.  On  the  other  hand  discussion,  earnest 
and  alert,  went  on  among  the  Whigs,  many  of  whom 
were  in  a  position  of  anxiety.  On  the  night  following 
the  Tea-Party  two  men  of  humble  calling  sat  in  the  little 
barber-shop  and  talked.  The  first  was  the  barber  him- 
self; the  second,  Pete,  the  Ellery's  foreman,  he  of  the 
feathers  and  half-painted  face,  and  of  the  hatchet.  A 
row  of  razors  lay  upon  the  table  at  Nick's  side.  One, 
opened,  gleamed  in  the  candlelight,  but  the  gray  hone 
was  drying.  Nick  could  not  work. 

"  He  saw  us  both,  last  night,"  he  said.  "  And  is  your 
manager  now  ?  " 

"  Ay ;  Mr.  Ellery  took  him  on  this  morning.  Came  to 
the  walks  about  nine ;  met  me  at  the  gate  carrying  hemp. 
Asked  for  Mr.  Ellery.  My  head  was  down ;  he  couldn't 
'a  known  me.  I  said :  '  In  the  counting-house.'  Then  he 
laughed,  took  me  by  the  shoulder,  and  turned  me  round. 


I2O  The  Colonials 

'  There's  paint  behind  your  ears,'  he  says.  '  Red  paint/ 
I  could  'a  dropped.  '  Governor  Hutchinson  would  give 
a  hundred  pounds  for  the  sight  of  you/  he  says." 

"  Gad !  "  cried  Nick. 

"  I  felt  rope  around  my  neck,"  said  Pete.  "  I  gagged, 
I  did.  He  tapped  me  on  the  back.  '  Go  wash  at  the 
pump,'  he  says.  I  tell  you,  I  washed.  My  skin's  raw 
still." 

"  And  Mr.  Ellery  took  him  on  ?  " 

"  Ay.  He  came  through  the  walks  with  him.  Showed 
him  everything.  '  Here's  Pete,'  he  says,  '  our  foreman.' 
The  manager  looked  at  me.  '  A  good  one,'  he  says.  '  A 
good  clean  face  he's  got,'  he  says.  '  By  the  way,  Mr. 
Ellery,  what's  become  of  the  Indians  I  saw  in  the  town 
last  night  ?  '  Gawd !  " 

"  Gad !  "  echoed  Nick. 

"  The  men  like  him,"  said  Pete.  "  He  made  us  a 
speech  when  Mr.  Ellery  left.  '  You  have  been  idlin' 
here,'  he  says.  '  I'll  have  no  more  of  that.  Wretched 
stuff  you've  made  for  rope.  'Tis  no  rope  ;  'tis  marlin.  No 
wonder  business  is  off,'  he  says.  '  No  more  of  this  now. 
I  noticed  some  rope  in  the  counting-house  here,  hang- 
ing on  the  wall,  five  sizes.  I  make  that  a  standard.  If 
you  can't  make  rope  as  good  as  that,  I'll  find  men  who 
can.'  That  was  Mr.  Frank's  rope,  Nick,  made  when  he 
was  sixteen.  The  hands  got  a  half-holiday  .when  he 
finished  the  cable." 

But  Nick  was  not  attending.  "  If  he  should  tell !  "  he 
said.  "  Gentlemen  were  talking  in  the  shop  this  morn- 
ing of  the  punishment.  'Tis  not  treason,  but  'tis  near  as 
bad." 

"  He'll  not  tell,"  asserted  Pete.  "  If  he  told  about 
the  floatin'  tea,  he's  no  Tory.  How  was  that?  " 

"  'Trs  true,"  responded  Nick,  brightening.   "  No  Tory 


Whigs,  Tories,  and  Redcoats  1 2 1 

would  'a  done  that.  I  was  at  his  side  on  the  wharf. 
You  and  the  rest " 

"  Lower,"  cautioned  Pete. 

Nick  lowered  his  voice.  "  You  and  the  rest  were 
breaking  up  the  tea-chests  and  throwing  the  tea  over- 
board. All  were  Whigs  around  us.  He  said  to  me : 
'  Who  are  these  Indians  ?  '  I  said  '  Mohawks.'  '  They  do 
their  work  ill/  he  says.  He  showed  me  the  tea,  floating 
in  heaps  inches  out  of  water.  '  Men  in  boats/  he  said, 
'  could  pick  up  a  third  of  it.'  I  passed  the  word  along." 

"  'Twas  well,"  said  Pete.  "  The  tea  was  light  as 
feathers,  it  would  have  floated  till  midnight.  But  we 
stirred  it  well  after  that.  Now  it  lies  on  Dorchester 
Beach." 

"  Small  virtue  to  it  left." 

"  But  do  you  suppose,"  asked  Pete,  "  he  remembers 
my  face  from  last  night  ?  " 

"  Hush !  " 

Feet  sounded  on  the  walk  without,  then  on  the  steps. 
A  key  rattled  in  the  lock,  and  the  new  manager  stood 
in  the  doorway. 

"  Ah,  Nick,"  he  said,  "  working  so  late?  And  'tis  our 
foreman  with  you.  Pete,  is  it  not?" 

"  Ay,"  said  Pete,  rising  and  touching  his  forelock. 

"  I  thought  this  morning  I  had  seen  you  before. 
Where  was  it,  can  you  say?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Well,  I  must  think  it  out.  Faces  change — are  dis- 
guised. Well,  good-night." 

They  heard  him  going  up  the  stairs.  Pete  sat  down 
heavily.  "  He's  teasing  me  !  And  does  he  lodge  here  ?  " 

"  In  the  garret,  till  Mr.  Humphreys'  room  is  ready. 
But  I  feel  better  of  him,  Pete.  He'll  not  tell." 

And  he  did  not,  nor  did  any  one.     While  the  Tories 


122  The  Colonials 

tried  all  means,  no  Whig  came  forward  to  betray,  no 
method  was  found  to  break  their  armour  of  silence. 

But  Mr.  Ellery,  it  will  be  seen,  had  a  communication 
for  his  nephew  that  night.  It  had  the  effect  of  direct- 
ness, and  was  suited  to  its  end.  That  they  were  poor, 
and  that  Humphreys'  methods  were  antiquated,  must 
be  acknowledged.  And  yet  Mr.  Ellery  had  never  con- 
cealed the  first  fact  from  his  nephew,  and  the  second — 
"  my  father  did  not  breed  me  to  the  business,  Dickie," 
he  said  regretfully,  "  and  you  know  I  was  twenty  years 
in  New  York  " — had  only  just  been  discovered.  Dickie, 
murmuring  his  sympathy,  saw  how  Ann  had  misjudged. 
But  now,  his  uncle  finished,  he  had  engaged  a  new 
manager,  young  and  brisk,  and  in  future  they  might  , 
even  hope  to  lift  the  load  of  debt  that  encumbered  the 
estate. 

"  Good !  "  said  Dickie,  and  was  much  relieved. 

Dickie,  it  will  be  perceived,  in  spite  of  his  nineteen 
years  was  still  little  more  than  a  boy.  Simple,  affec- 
tionate, and  lazy,  he  usually  believed  what  he  was  told 
and  took  what  he  was  given — a  satisfaction  to  his  friends 
and,  above  all,  to  his  uncle.  At  this  period  of  his  life  the 
pages  of  Dickie's  character  were  blank,  and  the  record 
of  his  thought  had  not  yet  begun.  But  the  untouched 
tablets  of  some  minds  are  not  to  be  marked  by  every 
pen,  and,  fortunately,  Dickie's  was  one  of  these.  In  spite 
of  the  lad's  docility  his  uncle  knew,  and  usually  acted 
on  the  knowledge,  that  he  must  speak  to  his  nephew  in 
language  only  of  a  certain  kind ; namely,  that  bearingthe 
semblance  of  fairness  and  truth.  Certain  impulses,  not 
to  be  foreseen,  would  seize  him  and  carry  him  away; 
briefly,  to  be  sure,  as  yet,  but  most  uncomfortably,  since 
to  apprehensive  friends  they  suggested  permanence. 
Steadiness  of  purpose  had  never  yet  been  reckoned 
among  his  qualities.  Kittens,  pups,  and  children  are 


Whigs,  Tories,  and  Redcoats  123 

easily  diverted,  and  it  was  a  simple  matter  to  lead  him 
from  uncomfortable  topics,  as  Mr.  Ellery  had  once  more 
proved.  But  as  a  Maltese,  when  once  grown,  will  watch 
for  hours  at  a  mouse's  hole,  or  as  a  bulldog  learns  to 
keep  its  grip,  so  Dickie  had  possibilities  before  him. 


CHAPTER    VI 

THE    BRITISH    COFFEE    HOUSE 

The  year  wore  along.  Boston  lay  snowed  under,  or 
the  streets  ran  water  in  the  February  thaws.  Like 
changes  prevailed  in  politics,  where  winter  chill  and 
summer  heat  contended.  In  America  their  variations 
were  more  important  than  the  weather,  while  over  in 
England  the  king  and  Parliament  were  preparing  pun- 
ishment for  the  destruction  of  the  tea. 

Dickie  Ellery, open-eyed  and  open-mouthed,  received 
vague  impressions  of  the  great  events  that  were  going 
on  around  him.  Anthony  Paddock  was  his  guide  and 
counsellor,  taking  care  that  all  items  of  news  should 
reach  Dickie's  ears  in  their  prooer  form.  The  matter 
of  the  judges'  salary  and  the  impeachment  of  the  Chief 
Justice, the  proroguing  of  the  House,  Franklin's  avowal 
that  he  had  sent  to  America  the  famous  Hutchin- 
son  letters,  even  the  proposed  Massachusetts  Acts — 
especially  of  the  last  Dickie  learned  from  Anthony. 

It  was  designed,  he  was  told,  by  special  trial  to  pro- 
tect any  Crown  servant  from  punishment  for  violence 
committed  in  the  course  of  his  duties.  It  was  proposed 
to  abridge  the  right  to  hold  town-meetings,  and  by 
appointing  councillors,  judges,  sheriffs,  and  even  juries 
by  the  governor,  to  centralise  power.  And  Dickie, 
as  he  applauded  the  measures  with  Anthony,  forgot 
that  the  authors  of  the  Massacre  had  been  defended  by 
Whig  lawyers  and  acquitted  by  a  Boston  jury. 


Whigs,  Tories,  and  Redcoats  125 

But  the  measure  with  the  name  of  which  the  colony 
was  ringing,  was  the  Boston  Port  Bill,  by  which  the 
port  of  Boston  was  to  be  closed,  and  the  seat  of  govern- 
ment removed,  until  the  tea  should  be  paid  for.  Dickie 
did  not  see  the  wisdom  of  this  until  Anthony  pointed 
out  that  loss  of  trade  would  speedily  bring  the  Whigs 
to  submit,  when  all  would  go  smoothly  again. 

Yet  in  spite  of  Anthony's  care  Dickie  heard  echoes 
from  the  other  side,  principally  through  Rodman  Sav- 
age, once  Frank's  friend,  and  Barbara,  Rodman's  pretty 
sister,  who  was  older  than  Dickie,  yet  fond  of  him,  and 
desirous  that  the  boy  should  make  something  of  himself. 
From  them  he  learned  that  the  Whigs  would  not  sub- 
mit, that  the  town  would  never  pay  for  the  tea,  and  that 
Marblehead,  Newburyport,  and  Salem,  refusing  to  profit 
by  the  distress  of  a  sister-town,  offered  the  merchants 
of  Boston  free  use  of  their  wharves.  And  when  the  bills 
passed  Parliament,  and  it  was  learned  that  soldiers  were 
coming  to  enforce  them,  it  was  Rodman  who  pointed 
out  to  Dickie  the  inevitable  suffering  of  the  working 
classes,  and  Barbara  who,  with  unspoken  reproach  for 
Dickie's  listlessness,  showed  him  how  the  Ellery  man- 
ager was  forestalling  distress  among  his  workmen. 

"  When  your  uncle  was  ready  to  close  the  works," 
said  Barbara,  "  as  all  other  ropemakers  have  done,  and 
as  my  father  had  to  do  with  his  shipyards,  did  not  your 
manager  guarantee  your  uncle  twenty  pounds  a  week  if 
he  would  keep  the  ropewalks  open?  " 

"  Ay,"  answered  Dickie. 

"  See  what  one  man  has  done,"  said  Barbara.  "  He  is 
but  Rodman's  age.  In  six  months  he  has  saved  your 
trade  from  ruin " 

"  Ruin?"  stammered  Dickie. 

"  Ay,"  she  said.  "  How  little  you  know  of  your  own 
affairs!  But  the  town  knows.  He  has  saved  you  from 


126  The  Colonials 

failure  so  successfully  that  now  he  dares  to  run  the 
business  by  aid  of  his  country  trade  alone,  and  if  this 
embargo  is  short  will  save  his  men  from  poverty,  gain 
you  credit,  and  merit  the  thanks  of  the  town.  Yet  prob- 
ably the  hemp  supply  will  fail,  and  he  must  close." 

Dickie  knew  what  she  was  thinking:  that  this  man- 
ager was  setting  an  example  for  him  to  follow.  And  as 
the  lad  thought  of  the  coming  distress  in  the  town,  of 
soldiers  and  a  possible  repetition  of  the  Massacre,  he 
saw  that  the  work  of  one  man  would  not  only  keep  many 
people  well  fed,  but  also  help  restrain  the  workmen 
from  making  trouble.  More  than  any  other  class  of  men 
the  ropemakers  were  turbulent  and  fearless.  Dickie 
felt  a  touch  of  shame  that  he  was  so  small  a  factor  in  his 
own  affairs. 

And  spurred  a  little  by  Barbara's  words,  he  watched 
events  with  a  new  desire  to  inform  himself.  The  coming 
of  General  Gage,  the  new  governor,  and  the  departure 
of  Hutchinson,  the  old,  pleased  him  with  their  pagean- 
try, but  when  the  Port  Bill  was  put  in  force  there  was 
no  such  delight  for  Dickie  as  for  his  Tory  friends.  On 
the  first  day  of  June  the  warships  in  the  harbour  moved 
into  position  upon  all  the  channels,  and  along  the  water 
front.  No  boat  was  to  be  allowed  to  come  or  go  with 
merchandise.  The  governor  left  the  town  for  Salem, 
with  all  the  officers.  Bells  tolled  in  all  the  churches, 
there  were  mourning  emblems  on  Whig  houses,  and 
gentlemen  appeared  in  black  upon  the  streets.  -Ship- 
building ceased,  sailors,  ropemakers,  and  dockmen  were 
thrown  out  of  work.  Trade  of  all  kinds  was  affected; 
the  shoemaker,  the  tailor,  the  baker,  the  marketman, 
all  felt  the  blow  at  their  prosperity.  Yet  at  the  Ellery 
yard  there  was  activity,  and  the  manager,  as  he  went 
about  his  work,  knew  that  the  thanks  of  his  men  silently 
followed  him. 


Whigs,  Tories,  and  Redcoats  127 

For  almost  immediately  suffering  began  in  the  town, 
from  lack  of  money  to  buy  food.  It  was  small  con- 
solation to  a  self-respecting  man  that  he  could  live  on 
the  contributions  which  came  in  from  other  towns  in  the 
province.  To  go  daily  to  the  Donation  Committee  for 
a  dole  of  food  and  fuel,  to  idle  in  the  streets,  was 
exasperation  to  those  men  who  had  always  been  self- 
supporting.  There  was  no  present  hope  of  change ;  the 
town,  in  a  crowded  meeting,  refused  to  pay  for  the  tea, 
and  until  the  payment  was  made  the  acts  were  to  con- 
tinue in  force. 

And  Dickie  sighed  for  the  unlucky  people.  Yet  as  the 
long-expected  troops  began  to  arrive,  his  mind  stirred 
with  pleasure  at  the  sight  of  them.  Almost  daily, 
throughout  June  and  July,  there  were  new  companies 
debarking,  or  artillery  rumbling  through  the  streets  to 
the  Common.  Gentlemen  and  ladies  went  every  day  to 
view  the  parade ;  on  the  streets  the  gay  coats  of  the 
officers  became  a  familiar  sight.  Dickie  loved  to  watch 
them,  and  Anthony  boasted.  Further  opposition  was 
now  impossible.  What  if,  as  now  was  clear,  the  sister 
colonies  were  upholding  Massachusetts,  and  by  contri- 
butions were  feeding  the  poor  of  Boston?  What 
though  all  the  colonies  were  choosing  delegates  to  a 
general  Congress  ?  Nothing  could  be  done  against  the 
army  of  King  George. 

Yet  the  Whigs  were  stiff-necked  still.  In  a  crowded 
meeting  they  refused  to  abolish  that  "  root  of  sedition," 
the  Committee  of  Correspondence,  and  steadily  con- 
tinued to  strengthen  their  union  with  the  other  colonies. 
In  the  face  of  the  governor's  threats  they  circulated 
an  agreement  to  consume  no  more  English  goods.  Nay, 
the  Whig  leaders,  Adams,  Warren,  Hancock,  and  the 
rest,  went  openly  about  seditious  business,  defying 
arrest,  and  the  governor  did  not  dare  to  seize  them. 


128  The  Colonials 

Dickie  marvelled.  Anthony's  fleers,  the  contempt  of 
the  Tories  for  the  "  offscouring  of  the  earth,"  could  not 
blind  the  lad's  eyes  to  the  courage  of  the  Whigs.  rt  And 
I  wish  you  fellows  would  be  more  temperate,"  he  burst 
out  one  day,  as  he  escaped  from  the  company  of  his 
friends. — A  new  thing,  a  strange  departure  for  Dickie. 
He  was  trying  to  think  for  himself. 

The  mood  continued,  for  in  the  streets  he  met  his 
manager,  tall,  silent,  and  observant.  Here  was  Dickie's 
chance  to  know  him  better,  and  his  little  feeling  of 
rebellion  against  his  friends'  intolerance  prompted  a 
strange  proposal.  "Where  are  you  going?"  he  asked. 
"  To  lunch  at  the  Coffee  House  ?  May  I  not  go  too  ?  " 

He  saw  the  other  flush  beneath  his  tan,  and  under 
hesitation  detected  pleasure.  The  manager  agreed,  and 
the  two  went  to  the  Coffee  House  together.  It  was  an 
unusual  meal  to  Dickie.  He  was  with  a  Whig,  with  his 
uncle's  servant,  yet  with  a  man  of  character,  one 
stronger  than  himself.  The  few  words  were  concise ; 
the  slow  smile  was  attractive;  the  keen,  quick-glancing 
eye  showed  self-reliance.  Dickie's  interest  in  the  man- 
ager grew. 

They  had  been  eating  alone ;  the  meal  was  all  finished 
but  the  cheese.  Then,  with  great  clatter,  a  half-dozen 
officers  came  into  the  room.  Arriving  too  late  to  use 
the  table  by  the  window,  which  Dickie  and  the  manager 
already  held,  the  group  stood  irresolute,  debating  where 
to  sit.  "  We  are  nearly  finished,"  whispered  Dickie. 
"  Shall  we  not  give  up  the  table  and  go  ?  " 

"  By  no  means,"  said  the  other  calmly. 

The  officers  took  the  table  near  their  own.  Dickie 
was  glad  that  he  had  not  gone.  Every  item  of  their 
equipments  pleased  him — their  swords,  their  buttons, 
belts,  scarves,  collars.  He  forgot  his  companion  and 
stared  openly.  The  manager,  calling  for  a  long  clay 


Whigs,  Tories,  and  Redcoats  129 

pipe,  filled  it  and  smoked.  The  officers  talked,  while 
waiting  for  their  food.  Dickie  heard  every  word. 

Their  careless  manner  spoke  to  Dickie  of  far  cam- 
paigns, the  life  of  the  world.  Their  confidence  was  the 
outcome  of  British  successes  in  a  score  of  wars.  How 
fine  must  be  the  life  of  men  who  were  so  frank  and  free, 
who  laughed  so  gaily,  ordered  their  wine  so  jovially, 
who  filled  the  room  with  the  clamour  and  the  glamour 
of  fighting  men !  Good-natured,  too,  they  were,  as  they 
laid  aside  their  swords,  seated  themselves,  and  began 
bantering  each  other. 

There  were  two  that  interested  Dickie  most.  One 
was  a  haughty  man,  whose  stern  eye,  clean-cut  nose, 
long  upper  lip,  and  jaw  spoke  aristocracy,  his  manner, 
ease.  Dickie  saw  him  in  profile.  The  other  was  in  full- 
face,  shorter,  brighter,  gentler  far  of  feature,  quicker  of 
speech.  Between  these  two  were  divided  the  grace  and 
grandeur  of  the  soldier. 

One  of  the  officers  spoke  to  the  shorter  one,  laugh- 
ing. "  Egad,  George,"  he  said;  "you  are  the  only  one 
of  all  the  regiment  that  likes  this  Boston." 

"  Well,"  said  the  other,  brightly,  "  I  have  cause.  First 
as  you  know,  Jack,  because  I  like  everything,  even 
you " 

"  Hear  !  "  they  cried. 

"  And  second,  because  Boston  presided  in  the  stars 
at  my  birth,  to  influence  my  fate.  I  even  have  a  liking 
for  these  Boston  Whigs." 

They  all  protested  loudly,  but  the  captain's  smile  was 
cheerfully  defiant. 

"  Tis  true,"  he  said  jauntily.  He  showed  white  teeth ; 
Dickie  loved  him  for  his  face.  "  My  best  friend  was  a 
Boston  Whig,  tho'  he  is  dead." 

"  Explain,"  said  one. 

The  other  looked  at  him  surprised.    "  You  know  the 


130 


The  Colonials 


story  of  my  Alice,"  he  said,  as  if  that  were  explanation 
enough. 

It  was.  His  questioner  lifted  his  glass.  "  To  Mistress 
Alice !  "  and  they  drank. 

"  But  your  worst  enemy,  George,"  was  the  next  ques- 
tion. "  Is  he  yet  defined,  or  is  he,  mayhap,  also  dead?  " 

Dickie  saw  a  change  in  the  captain's  face.  "  Thank 
God  he  is !  "  and  his  tone  was  earnest.  "  He  and  I  could 
not  both  live  together  on  this  earth." 

"And  was  he  a  Whig?" 

"  He  wore  the  king's  livery,  but  I  never  saw  him." 

"  Never  saw  him?  " 

"  My  Whig  friend  killed  him.  Boys,  you  know  the 
story." 

They  seemed  to  know,  at  the  explanation.  "  But  his 
name,"  asked  one. 

"  Ask  Sotheran." 

The  haughty  captain  had  sat  unsmiling.  Now  he 
spoke,  and  together  the  others  turned  to  him.  Dickie 
noticed  in  this  act  a  tribute  to  his  character.  "  Eh,  'tis 
a  man  of  force,"  he  thought. 

"  I  know  the  name,"  the  captain  said.  The  voice  was 
strong  and  even.  "  But  if  you  please,  I  will  not  tell  it." 
Dickie  recognised  this  as  a  warning  not  to  ask.  There 
was  a  moment's  awkward  pause  before  a  fresh  topic 
was  introduced,  and  Dickie,  always  curious,  longed  to 
know  more  of  the  forbidden  subject. 

Their  meal  came  now.  Dickie  noted  with  pleasure 
that  it  was  served  by  the  officers'  servants  in  uniform. 
He  turned  to  the  manager.  "  What  fun  to  have  one's 
own  servants,  and  to  live  as  well  as  these  men." 

The  manager  raised  his  finger  and  beckoned  to  one  of 
the  servants.  The  man  came.  "  Will  you  tell  me  the 
name  of  the  officer  who  sits  facing  us  ?  " 

"  Captain  Tudor,  sir." 


Whigs,  Tories,  and  Redcoats  131 

The  man  spoke  loud  and  turned  away.  The  officers 
heard,  and  looked.  Tudor  smiled,  but  the  nearer  cap- 
tain, Sotheran,  knit  his  brows.  The  distance  was  short 
between  the  two  tables,  and  he  spoke  so  as  to  be  dis- 
tinctly heard.  "  Sir,  you  are  asking  names  ?  " 

"  If  Captain  Tudor  will  pardon  me." 

"  Certainly,"   said  Tudor ;  but  the   other   continued : 

"  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  know  mine?  " 

The  servants  all  stood  still,  to  watch  and  listen. 
The  officers  evidently  pricked  their  ears.  Dickie  looked 
unquietly  at  the  manager,  then  at  Captain  Tudor,  who 
spoke.  "  Hey  there,"  he  said  quickly  to  the  servants. 
"  You  fellows  go  out,  and  shut  the  door.  Sotheran, 
the  gentleman  has  a  right  to  ask  my  name." 

Captain  Sotheran,  still  looking  at  the  manager, 
answered  merely:  '  The  gentleman  does  not  reply." 
There  was  a  moment  of  silence  in  which  Dickie  felt  his 
heart  beating  fast.  His  hands  grew  cold.  "  This  is  a 
quarrel !  "  he  thought. 

The  manager  leaned  forward.  His  eye  was  firm  to 
meet  the  other's  and  he  answered  clearly :  "  I  have  no 
curiosity  to  know  your  name  " — Dickie  sighed — "  but  I 
should  be  glad  to  know  how  you  came  by  that  scar  on 
your  temple." 

The  scar  sprang  out  suddenly  into  view,  white,  as 
the  skin  around  it  reddened.  The  officer  clinched  his 
hands  ;  Dickie  gasped.  "  Sotheran,"  cried  Tudor  spring- 
ing up,  "  Henry,  I  beg  of  you " 

Captain  Sotheran  rose.  His  flush  died ;  his  face  was 
calm  but  ominous  as  he  faced  the  manager  across  the 
tables.  "  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  inform  you,  sir,  at  any 
time  and  place  that  you  may  name." 

"  Complete,"  said  one  of  the  officers.  Tudor  sat  down 
again,  shrugging  as  one  resigned. 

The  manager  tapped  upon  the  table  with  his  fingers. 


132  The  Colonials 

His  eyes  did  not  move  from  Sotheran's  face.  "  You 
honour  me,  sir,"  he  said.  "  It  pains  me  not  to  meet 
you." 

The  English  captain  laughed,  and  took  his  seat.  "  I 
told  you,"  he  said  to  the  others,  "  the  Whigs  would  not 
fight."  Dickie's  excitement  gave  way  to  discomfort, 
and  on  the  face  of  Captain  Tudor  relief  and  disappoint- 
ment blended.  "  The  fellow  seems  stout  and  firm 
enough,"  Tudor  thought. 

The  manager  reddened  now;  he  felt  the  change  in 
them  all,  and  in  the  stillness  spoke  again.  "  My  reasons, 
sir " 

"  Whiggish,  priggish  reasons !  "  interjected  Sotheran. 

"  Are  simply  in  the  public  request  of  the  governor, 
to  have  no  quarrels.  I  cannot  take  it  upon  me  to  break 
the  peace  of  the  town." 

Captain  Tudor's  face  cleared.  "  The  gentleman  is 
right,"  he  said.  The  others  nodded,  all  but  Captain 
Sotheran. 

The  manager  in  his  turn  rose.  "  And  I  have  certain 
duties,  sir,  which  I  may  not  now  risk.  Yet  if  I  could 
not  meet  you,  I  acknowledge  that  I  should  not  provoke 
you.  In  so  far,  I  beg  your  pardon,  for  the  present. 
And  in  a  little  while,  when  politics  are  settled " 

Captain  Sotheran  looked  up  quickly.  "  I  understand, 
sir."  The  officers  all  rose  and  bowed  as  Dickie  and  the 
manager  passed  out. 

On  the  street  the  manager  turned  to  his  companion. 
"  Can  you  fence  ?  "  he  asked  abruptly.  "  Can  you  shoot 
with  a  pistol  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Dickie. 

"  Study  both — practise  both,"  enjoined  the  manager. 
"  Good-day." 

Dickie  stood  staring  after  him.  What  manner  of  man 
was  this  ? 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE     ELLERY     ROPEWALKS 

Barbara  Savage  had  never  known  trouble.  Only  one 
sorrow  had  oppressed  her — the  death  of  Francis  Ellery. 
She  remembered  the  shock  of  learning  of  his  drowning. 
In  her  heart  was  a  little  corner  kept  for  her  memories  of 
him.  But  that  was  as  long  ago  as  the  Massacre,  four 
years,  and  nothing  else  had  ever  gone  amiss  with 
Barbara.  At  last  the  day  came  when  life  was  w.earisome 
to  her. 

So  she  declared  to  herself,  and  she  believed  it. 
Little  Barbara  stood  pouting  and  tapping  with  her  foot, 
as  she  looked  out  of  her  window  at  the  redcoats  parad- 
ing on  the  Common.  But  Barbara,  Barbara — those 
pouting  lips,  those  flashing  eyes,  that  disdainful  poise, 
however  great  vexation  they  express,  show  no  sign  of 
the  grand  despair  which  yet  can  come  in  life. 

No,  it  was  quite  in  ignorance  of  her  possibilities  of 
suffering  that  Barbara  thought  herself  weary  of  life. 
She  was  angry,  her  patriotism  was  wounded,  her  pride 
in  her  home  was  outraged ;  but  as  for  welcoming  death, 
Barbara  had  no  thought  of  such  a  thing.  The  blood 
in  her  veins  was  too  hot,  her  spirit  too  high.  She 
gloried  in  her  homespun  dress,  and  simple  home-made 
ornaments.  She  wore  them  gladly  to  prove  herself  in 
opposition  to  the  hated  Massachusetts  Acts,  and  when 
some  foreboding  soul  suggested  that  bloodshed  might 


134  The  Colonials 

come,  Barbara  (she  who  had  declared  herself  weary  of 
life)  flushed,  and  wished  for  the  strength  to  bear  a  gun. 

Barbara  was  cornered,  that  was  all.  With  the  rest  of 
Whiggish  Boston  she  was  suffering  under  a  peaceful 
blockade.  The  drum  and  fife  waked  her  each  morning, 
and  she  was  ashamed,  as  she  worked  about  the  house,  to 
notice  her  fingers  and  feet  moving  to  military  music, 
And  this  morning,  finding  her  foot  again  tapping  in  time, 
she  burst  into  tears  of  mortification,  and  cried  out  amid 
sobs:  "  Oh,  I  hate  them!  I  hate  them!  " 

So  she  did.  So  knew  Captain  Tudor  as  he  met  her 
glance,  when  before  long,  with  Katy  in  attendance, 
Barbara  left  the  house  for  market.  So  felt  Mistress 
Caroline  Oliver,  the  Tory  belle,  when  the  two  ladies 
exchanged  frigid  salutations  in  passing.  And  the 
gentlemen  attendant  on  Mistress  Oliver  laughed  among 
themselves,  quietly,  when  Barbara  had  passed. 

"  An  iceberg !    Defend  me  !  " 

"  Nay,  rather  a  withering  flame  !    Eh,  Tudor  ?  " 

Tudor  thought  that  she  was  both.  He  felt  hot  and 
cold  together.  He  admired  that  pretty  Whig  more 
every  time  he  saw  her.  Therefore,  becoming  the  tail 
of  Mistress  Caroline's  train,  he  presently  detached  him- 
self entirely,  and  turned  unnoticed  on  the  steps  of 
Barbara.  Twice  he  reprimanded  soldiers  for  loud 
speaking  after  the  little  lady;  his  eye  out,  the  while, 
lest  she  should  take  some  turn  unnoticed. 

But  Barbara's  way  was  roundabout,  and  Captain 
Tudor  became  both  ashamed  and  afraid.  Ashamed  of 
his  schoolboy  feelings,  afraid  she  would  notice  him,  he 
turned  back.  Not  yet  ready  to  take  up  again  the  banter 
of  his  friends,  he  seized  upon  an  opportunity  when  he 
saw  Dickie  Ellery,  and  introduced  himself  to  the  lad. 

Dickie,  confused  and  flattered,  nevertheless  heard 
with  some  dismay  the  captain's  request.  "  You  wish  to 


Whigs,  Tories,  and  Redcoats  135 

speak  with  the  gentleman  who  was  with  me  at  the 
Coffee  House?  I  trust  you  go  not  to  convey  a  chal- 
lenge? " 

"  Xay,"  said  the  captain  quickly.  "  God  forbid.  I 
have  enquired  concerning  him ;  your  Tory  leaders  here 
have  told  me  that  his  life  is  valuable  to  them." 

"  He  !    Our  manager  ?  "  cried  Dickie. 

"  Ay,"  said  the  captain.  "  They  say  that  he  alone 
holds  in  check  your  most  dangerous  class,  the  rope- 
makers.  Your  Mr.  Secretary  Flucker  says  this  manager 
can  do  more  to  keep  the  town's  peace  than  a  regiment 
of  dragoons." 

"  Indeed  ?  "  said  Dickie  as  he  began  to  lead  the  way. 
This  was  a  surprise,  that  Mr.  Secretary  Flucker  should 
even  know  of  the  existence  of  the  Ellery  manager.  Yet 
the  statement  was  very  likely  true.  Ropemakers  had 
brought  about  the  Massacre,  but  since  the  soldiers' 
coming  they  had  been  very  quiet. 

"  If  he  should  be  killed,  or  even  injured  by  one  of  us," 
said  the  captain,  "  his  men,  whose  bread,  I  understand, 
depends  on  him  alone,  would  have  the  town  by  the  ears 
at  once.  There  must  be  no  duel." 

They  went  along  together,  tall  lumbering  Dickie  and 
the  sprightly  captain,  contrasting  greatly,  yet  the 
Englishman  could  even  chat  gaily,  Dickie  found,  with 
such  a  stranger  and  a  boy  as  he.  Of  the  town  and  the 
Port  Bill,  of  a  certain  search  which  the  captain  feared 
he  must  prosecute  without  success,  unless  one  Dickie 
Ellery 

"  Dickie  Ellery  !  "  cried  Dickie.     "  Why,  I  am  he  !  " 

"  So,"  said  the  captain  in  surprise.  "  You  live  in  a 
great  stone  house  by  the  water?  And  own  ropewalks? 
Yes,  so  I  was  told.  And  had  you,  my  dear  sir — "  the 
captain  halted,  and  looked  upon  Dickie  very  earnestly — 
"  a  brother  who  went  away  some  years  ago  ?  " 


136  The  Colonials 

"  A  brother  certainly,"  said  Dickie,  flushing  as  he 
always  did  when  he  thought  of  Frank.  "  But  he  did 
not  go  away.  He  drowned,  was  seen  to  drown  here  in 
the  harbour." 

"  You  will  excuse  me,"  said  the  captain  quickly,  "  if 
I  touched  upon  a  grief.  My  sister  is  depending  upon 
me  to  find  the  relative  of  one  who  saved  her  life.  This 
is^a  disappointment;  I  was  certain  of  you.  Now  I  know 
not  where  to  search."  They  went  on  in  silence  until 
they  came  to  the  ropewalks. 

Through  the  window  of  the  long  building  they  saw 
figures  go  to  and  fro.  Under  sheds  were  piled  a  few 
bales  of  rope.  Other  sheds  stood  almost  empty — the 
hemp  sheds,  their  lessening  storage  foretelling  the 
time  when  the  Ellery  works  must  close.  But  the  place 
was  active  still.  Two  months  more,  the  manager 
expected. 

The  captain  went  to  the  open  door  of  one  of  the  rope- 
walks,  and  looked  within.  Down  the  long  perspective 
men  were  walking  backward,  weaving  hemp,  from  knots 
at  their  waists,  into  the  twisting  ropes.  Boys  hastened 
to  and  fro  among  them  with  more  hemp.  Talk  and 
laughter  echoed  in  the  place,  ceasing  by  degrees  as  the 
men,  one  after  another,  perceived  the  British  officer. 

A  tall  fellow  came  forward.  "  What  d'ye  want,  sir  ?  " 
Then  he  perceived  Dickie,  and  pulled  his  forelock. 

"  Send  the  manager,  Pete,"  said  Dickie. 

"  Ay,  sir,"  and  the  man  went  to  fetch  him. 

The  captain,  at  the  door,  was  conscious  of  lowering 
glances  at  his  uniform,  but  looked  in  at  the  work  with 
the  frank  interest  he  felt. 

"  Somewhere  in  Boston,"  he  said,  "  is  a  ropewalk  that 
is  dear  to  me.  You  are  interested,  Mr.  Ellery.  I  was 
never  in  the  town  before  this  month,  yet  here  was  bred 
a  man  to  whom  I  owe — "  he  stopped  and  mused.  "  And 


Whigs,  Tories,  and  Redcoats  137 

I  thought  you  were  the  brother.  There  is  no  other  in 
the  town  that  suits.  Alice  must  come  herself;  I  shall 
write  her  so.  Forgive  me,  Mr.  Ellery.  I  was  thinking 
of  my  sister;  she  is  waiting  but  my  word  to  come  here, 
and  I  like  not  to  have  her  alone  in  London ;  since  my 
father  died  her  best  place  is  near  me.  And  she  longs 
to  see  the  town,  to  know  his  relatives.  Yes,  I  must 
write  I  need  her  help.  Here  is  the  manager." 

Steps  pattered,  a  lad  came  running,  and  halted  in 
front  of  the  captain.  Then  the  manager  appeared,  and 
the  boy's  glance  went  back  and  forth  between  the  two 
men  as  they  spoke. 

"  You  have  come  to  see  me  ?  "  asked  the  manager. 

"  Ay,"  said  the  captain,  "  and  with  strange  feelings." 

"Indeed?"  The  Whig  was  very  formal,  very  well- 
bred.  Dickie  was  struck  by  his  manner. 

"  I  am  in  a  nest  of  you,"  laughed  the  Englishman. 
"  Here  are  forty  Whigs,  each  with  a  woldring  stick. 
Are  not  those  the  instruments  your  men  drub  our 
soldiers  with?  And  I  but  with  a  sword." 

The  captain's  manner  was  engaging,  and  the  manager 
relaxed  and  smiled.  The  boy  spoke  quickly. 

"  We  will  not  hurt  you." 

"And  why  not?"  asked  the  captain. 

"  The  English,"  answered  the  lad,  "  are  to  shed  the 
first  blood." 

"  Eh?  "  cried  Tudor,  startled. 

"  Roger,"  said  the  manager,  "  go  away  now." 

"Who  is  he?"  asked  the  captain  as  the  lad  went 
away. 

The  manager  shook  his  head.  "  He  knows,  but  he 
will  not  tell.  A  runaway,  past  doubt.  I  found  him  all 
but  frozen,  almost  starved,  in  the  country  three  months 
since,  as  I  was  journeying  on  business." 

"  But  what  he  said  ?  "  pursued  the  captain.     "  The 


138  The  Colonials 

English  are  to  shed  the  first  blood.  What  did  he 
mean?  " 

"  Tis  preached  in  every  pulpit,"  said  the  manager. 
"  Even  the  children  know  it." 

"  But  then,"  asked  Tudor  eagerly.  "  Blood  once 
shed,  what  then?  " 

The  manager  shook  his  head.  "  May  the  time  not 
come." 

"  But  would  the  colonials  fight  ?  " 

"  Our  one  desire  is,  to  have  no  fighting." 

"  You  do  not  answer  me !  "  cried  Tudor. 

"Do  I  need?" 

The  captain  looked  at  the  Whig.  This  tall  manager, 
the  sinewy  ropemakers,  typified  the  town  and  the 
colony.  There  were  hundreds  of  such  workmen  in  the 
streets,  there  were  many  such  others  to  lead  them. 
Tudor  ran  over  rapidly  in  his  mind  the  Whigs  that  had 
been  pointed  out  to  him :  this  manager ;  young  Savage ; 
Knox,  the  big  bookseller ;  Warren,  the  doctor — one  and 
all,  they  were  fighters. 

"  Gad !  "  he  said  astonished,  "  I  believe  you  would." 

And  Dickie  was  troubled  as  he  heard  him.  The  town 
resist,  the  colony  rebel?  It  was  called  but  a  threat  to 
frighten  the  Tories.  Yet  the  Whigs  had  courage.  Of 
that  he  had  no  doubt. 

Tudor  recovered  himself.  The  manager  pleased  and 
impressed  him ;  he  was  a  man  above  his  station,  yet  the 
captain  felt  he  was  going  too  quickly  with  a  stranger. 
"  Sir,"  he  said  more  formally,  "  may  I  have  a  word  with 
you  in  regard  to  our  recent  meeting?  My  friend 
Sotheran " 

He  paused,  feeling  the  change  in  the  other's  manner. 
The  manager's  eye  darted  a  searching  look ;  his  lips  set 
firmer. 

"  He  has  sent  you  ?  "  asked  the  Whig. 


Whigs,  Tories,  and  Redcoats  139 

"  Nay,"  said  Tudor  quickly.  "  I  came  of  my  own 
motion,  as  a  peacemaker.  I  understand,  sir,  your 
reasons  for  postponing  a  duel.  Honour  leads  you  to 
postpone  it  merely.  And  I  learn  the  fencing  master 
here  prizes  your  skill  above  his  own.  Yet  your  antago- 
nist would  be  the  most  practised  hand  in  London. 
And — pardon  me,  sir,  if  I  speak  of  this,  yet  you  cannot 
know  it — he  is  my  friend,  'tis  his  one  fault,  but  he  is 
merciless  to  an  adversary." 

"  You  are  mistaken,  Captain  Tudor,"  said  the 
manager,  "  I  knew  of  it." 

Then  his  manner  changed,  and  he  looked  upon  the 
captain  kindly.  "  This  is  very  good  of  you,"  he  said. 
"  You  came  to  say " 

"  To  express  the  hope,"  said  Tudor,  "  that  since  a 
meeting  must  be  postponed,  the  matter  might  eventually 
be  forgotten  altogether." 

"  You  are  very  good,"  said  the  manager  again.  "  And 
yet  I  cannot  please  you,  Captain  Tudor.  My  hope  is 
that  your  friend's  memory  will  be  as  long  as  mine." 

He  saw  that  Tudor  was  surprised,  but  would  not  let 
him  speak  again.  "  Captain  Tudor,"  he  said,  "  I  con- 
sider that  you  have  highly  honoured  me.  And  when 
you  know  us  colonists  better,  sir,  I  hope  that  you  will 
not  lose  your  interest  in  our  affairs." 

"Were  all  the  colonists,"  thought  Tudor,  "as courage- 
ous in  a  quarrel  as  this  man?"  But  there  were  figures  at 
the  gate ;  Rodman  Savage  was  there,  and  Dickie  cried 
out  "  Barbara !  " 

"  Pete,"  said  the  manager,  calling  up  his  foreman. 
"  Take  charge  for  the  rest  of  the  day.  I  am  going  away. 
Captain  Tudor,  I  go  to  sail  in  the  harbour  with  my 
friends.  Do  you  care  to  come?" 

Tudor  was  soon  to  go  on  duty,  and  declined.  Yet  he 
was  introduced  to  the  pretty  Whig  whom  he  had 


140  The  Colonials 

admired.  Her  cheeks  were  warm  at  the  sight  of  his 
uniform;  but  her  manner  was  cold  at  meeting  him.  The 
captain's  humour  came  to  his  rescue. 

"  Will  the  colonists  fight  ?  "  he  asked  himself.  "  Egad, 
here  is  one  that  will !  " 

The  question  and  its  answer  stayed  by  him  during  the 
afternoon ;  if  there  should  be  an  outbreak,  it  would  not 
be  safe  for  Alice  to  come.  But  an  evening  with  officers 
and  Tories  dispelled  all  doubts.  Ridiculous  to  suppose 
that  the  Whigs  would  persevere  in  their  opposition. 
Before  the  captain  slept  that  night  he  wrote  to  his  sister, 
begging  her  to  come  to  Boston. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

THE     VOYAGE 

That  tall  young  lady  with  fair  face,  who  read  her 
brother's  letter  between  smiles  and  tears,  kissing  the 
signature  at  the  end — was  she  the  Alice  Tudor  of  the 
woods  ?  That  grave,  quick  look  was  the  glance  of  one 
accustomed  to  the  world  and  its  hazards.  That  mild 
re.-erve  was  the  result  of  much  experience,  even  at  her 
age.  Yes,  it  was  Alice :  but  the  woman,  not  the  girl. 

So  Alice  Tudor  sailed  for  Boston,  and  all  the  men  on 
board  watched  her  for  the  sake  of  her  pure,  fearless 
beauty.  That  they  all  loved  her — indeed,  for  this  very 
character  of  purity  and  courage,  some  did  not.  \Yhen 
her  eyes  flashed  Ensign  Hodges  speechless  in  the  midst 
of  his  song,  when  her  silence  rebuked  the  junior  captain 
for  his  jest — cold  and  haughty,  said  they  both.  But 
she  was  approachable  by  all,  admired  by  many,  loved 
by  at  least  one,  Major  Harley,  whose  spirit  crawled  on 
the  deck  before  her. 

"  \Yhat  does  she  like  ?  "  asked  some.  "  Neither  wine, 
nor  cards,  nor  merry  talk."  But  the  few  unspoiled 
boys,  the  honest,  lonely  major,  and  the  astonished  sea- 
captain,  found  her  tastes  to  be  for  simplicity,  honesty, 
and  for  healthy,  unfashionable  amusements. 

Alice  had  been  a  horsewoman  in  London.  How  they 
had  clustered  around  her  when  she  rode !  But  the  close 
air  of  the  card-room,  the  restless,  anxious  spirits  at  the 
tables,  sickened  and  repelled  her.  Out  on  the  ocean 


142  The  Colonials 

she  would  be  on  deck,  would  breathe  the  air,  watch  the 
ship,  and  welcome  each  portent  of  the  sea.  The  por- 
poises and  whales,  the  flying  fish,  the  distant  bergs  and 
sails — these  were  for  her.  Not  the  low  dusky  cabin, 
the  pack  of  cards,  nor  the  ship's  wine. 

Health  and  good-living,  these  she  loved.  These 
others  loved  in  her.  They  were  unusual ;  so  much  the 
more  to  be  prized.  "  None  of  your  finicky  ladies," 
whispered  the  mate.  "  She  eats  the  food  and  finds  no 
fault."  "  Egad,"  said  the  captain  aside  to  Major  Harley. 
"  Watch  her  as  she  sways  with  the  ship.  See  the 
colour — the  blowing  hair!  Were  I  twenty  years 
younger " 

"  Were  I  ten  years  younger !  "  thought  poor  Harley. 

One  thing  of  Alice :  she  did  not  forget.  How  should 
one  who  has  eaten  boiled  deerskin  despise  ship's  beef? 
How  should  one  who  has  starved,  indeed,  ever  cease  to 
be  thankful  for  plenty  ? 

And  again,  Nature,  who  had  been  harsh  to  her,  she 
loved — loved  wind  and  blowing  spray,  loved  the  great 
waves,  the  staggering  ship.  She  gazed  each  hour  at 
the  tumbling  waters. 

She  had  an  eye  for  the  common  men,  the  sailors  of 
the  troop-ship,  and  the  luckless  troops.  If  she  were 
on  the  deck  (as  she  almost  always  was)  the  poor  privates 
worn  by  sickness,  the  sailors  tired  by  toil,  felt  the  day 
brighter  and  their  bodies  stronger.  For  she  walked 
among  them,  smiled,  and  spoke. 

And  sometimes,  as  to  all  sterling  natures,  came  to 
Alice  the  great  melancholy  of  the  sea,  its  eternal  brood- 
ing. She  would  stand  at  the  shrouds  and  gaze,  with  the 
sadness  of  centuries  in  her  eyes,  a  lovely  Sphinx,  know- 
ing no  answers  to  her  own  questions :  Where  go  we  ? 
What  is  this  all  for?  This  was  not  unhappiness,  only 
wonder,  overwhelming  awe.  and  therewith  a  sweet  con- 


Whigs,  Tories,  and  Redcoats  143 

tent,  just  to  live,  to  be  in  the  world,  to  sail  upon  the 
sea  and  let  God  guide  her. 

At  such  times  Harley  and  the  captain,  or  the  mate, 
stood  guard  lest  any  should  disturb  her. 

Her  maid  roused  Alice  that  last  morning,  poor  sick 
Christine,  in  whose  voice  for  the  first  time  was  cheerful- 
ness. "  Boston  Harbour  is  in  sight." 

Alice  dressed  quickly,  and  went  upon  the  deck.  Her 
first  view  from  the  companionway  was  land,  a  low,  green 
hillock  rising  from  the  water.  She  looked  from  south 
to  north.  There,  scattered  along,  were  more  flat  hills 
in  groups  or  singly.  Close  at  hand  rose  up  in  sharp 
contrast  some  rocky  islets.  On  one  of  them  was  a  light- 
house. Beyond,  a  channel  opened.  The  ship  was  mak- 
ing for  the  entrance. 

The  soldiers  were  already  on  deck ;  some  were  even 
part  way  up  the  shrouds.  One  by  one  the  officers 
came  up  on  the  quarter,  but  Alice  did  not  see  them.  She 
stood  at  the  bulwark,  holding  to  a  stay,  and  fixed  her 
eyes  upon  the  land.  She  saw  the  grasses  waving,  she 
smelt  upon  the  breeze  the  odour  of  new  hay.  Island 
after  island  opened  to  her  view  as  the  ship  beat  its  way 
along  the  channel.  Fishermen  in  boats  were  close  at 
hand.  Cattle  grazed  upon  the  hillsides.  It  was  peace- 
ful, lovely,  almost  English. 

The  minutes  passed  unnoticed.  The  orders  of  the 
seamen  tacking  ship ;  the  flapping  of  the  canvas ;  the 
crowd  of  gesticulating  soldiers,  glad  of  land  at  last; 
even  the  old  delight  of  wind  in  her  face,  of  the  rushing 
ship — all  this  made  no  impression.  She  thought  no 
more  of  the  coming  reunion  with  her  brother,  ignored 
the  group  of  officers  behind,  nay,  at  last  even  her 
whereabouts  passed  from  her  mind. 

This  was  not  regret;  it  was  not  memory — she  lived 
again  in  another  time,  and  saw  its  scenes.  A  black 


144  The  Colonials 

forest  standing  in  white  snow,  all  distance  lost  amidst 
trees,  the  sky  shut  out.  And  there  on  the  snow  was  a 
young  man  toiling,  famished  to  a  shade,  faint  unto 
death.  A  dream,  a  nightmare  of  devotion,  unselfish- 
ness, sacrifice.  A  test  of  other  men  by  which  they 
failed. 

The  roar  of  a  cannon  shattered  her  vision,  and 
brought  her  to  herself. 

They  had  reached  the  upper  harbour.  A  little  fortress 
was  saluting;  there  were  warships  at  a  short  distance, 
and  sailboats  moved  on  the  water  near  at  hand.  The 
soldiers  on  the  forecastle  began  to  cheer.  Alice  looked 
beyond  all,  and  saw  rising  from  the  water  wharves  and 
houses,  cupolas,  trees  and  spires.  Her  bosom  rose  and 
fell ;  her  eyes  shone.  Boston ! 

The  officers  crowded  behind  her,  pointed,  asked,  and 
talked.  There  was  the  flagship,  there  the  battery.  She 
did  not  hear.  The  noble  ships  of  war  she  did  not  see. 
For  her  was  only  the  town,  where  Frank  had  lived, 
where  were  his  brother  and  his  friends.  She  gazed  and 
gazed,  and  could  not  have  enough. 


CHAPTER  IX 

AN    ARRIVAL 

Captain  Tudor  had  met  his  sister  when  she  landed 
upon  Long  Wharf.  Alice's  eyes  were  bright  and  eager 
as  she  glanced  about  her.  Already  from  the  ship  she 
had  recognised  the  Boston  of  Frank's  descriptions — the 
many  steeples,  the  numerous  wharves,  the  Trimount 
behind  all.  Now  when  on  foot  she  found  herself  within 
the  town  itself,  she  looked  for  more  of  those  signs,  long 
familiar  in  her  dreams.  At  the  very  first,  one  stood 
before  her. 

From  the  wharf  a  street  stretched  on,  bordered  with 
buildings  mostly  of  a  public  nature,  shops,  warehouses, 
taverns,  and  the  customs  house.  Several  of  them  were 
handsome  buildings,  all  were  of  a  pleasing  simpleness, 
proper  to  the  main  street  of  a  colonial  town.  But  at  the 
end  of  the  street,  standing  directly  in  the  middle,  was 
a  building  finer  than  the  others,  square-shouldered, 
dignified,  and  strong. 

Alice  stopped  and  regarded  it.  "What  is  the  matter?" 
asked  her  brother,  but  she  did  not  turn  from  looking. 
The  building  was  crowned  with  a  bell-canopy,  and  sup- 
porting its  pediment  were  two  heraldic  beasts,  the  lion 
and  the  unicorn. 

"  Tis  the  Town  House !  "  she  said  aloud. 

"  Ay,"  he  answered,  surprised.  "  How  knew  you, 
Alice  ?  " 

There  \vere  others  in  attendance,  young  officers  come 


146  The  Colonials 

to  meet  the  London  belle.  Each  put  in  his  pretty  com- 
pliment to  the  town  or  to  her  inspiration,  but  their 
remarks  ceased  when  she  still  stood  motionless.  First 
her  fixed  gaze  was  the  look  of  one  trying  to  recollect; 
then  she  put  up  her  hand  to  her  temple,  and  closed  her 
eyes.  "  Oh !  "  she  said  suddenly,  and  turned  to  the 
right,  looking  again.  From  the  broad  street  ran  a  nar- 
row little  alley.  "  There  !  "  she  cried. 

Through  the  alley  was  visible,  at  a  hundred  yards,  the 
end  of  another  large  building.  "  There  is  it,"  repeated 
Alice  hurriedly.  "  I  know  the  place." 

"  Tis  Faneuil  Hall,"  said  the  brother.  "  Yes,"  she 
said.  Her  breath  was  quicker,  her  cheeks  were  flushed, 
as  she  turned  to  him.  "  George,  come  with  me,"  she 
enjoined,  and  to  her  escort  she  said :  "  Gentlemen,  I 
beg  you  to  excuse  me."  She  went  quickly  to  the  alley, 
leaving  an  astonished  group. 

Her  brother  kept  at  her  side.  "  What  is  it,  Alice  ?  " 
he  asked  again.  "  Do  you  really  think " 

"  It  has  all  come  back  to  me,"  she  interrupted.  "  I 
can  find  the  way  to  Frank's  house.  Do  not  ask  me 
questions,  but  come."  She  walked  with  hasty  step,  and 
he,  his  interest  increasing,  went  on  with  her. 

At  the  end  of  the  alley  they  saw  the  whole  of  Faneuil 
Hall.  Alice  cast  up  but  one  glance  at  the  stately  build- 
ing, passed  its  end,  and  found  the  waters  of  the  Town 
Dock  lying  across  the  straight  path.  "  But  there  is  a 
drawbridge,"  she  cried.  "  Oh— there !  "  A  little  to  the 
right  a  drawbridge  spanned  the  entrance  of  the  dock ; 
she  crossed,  and  entered  another  alley  in  front. 
It  led  to  a  larger  street,  running  to  right  and  left. 
Without  hesitation  she  turned  to  the  right.  "  We  go  on 
this,"  she  said,  "  till  we  find  the  large  house  facing  the 
harbour." 


Whigs,  Tories,  and  Redcoats  147 

"  Are  you  not — "  began  her  brother,  and  checked 
himself.  He  walked  at  her  side  as  she  hurried  on. 

They  went  along  the  street  as  it  curved  to  the  right, 
following  the  water-front.  Frequent  openings  led  down 
to  the  wharves,  where  useless  shipping  lay  unrigged;  to 
the  left  were  streets  running  away  into  the  town.  Alice 
looked  at  each  house.  "  There  ?  "  asked  her  brother, 
as  they  came  to  one  of  larger  size.  "  No,"  she 
answered.  "  That  is  of  wood,  and  Frank's  stood  in  its 
garden.  But  I  know  it  is  close  at  hand."  With  parted 
lips  and  eager  eyes  she  pressed  on,  while  he,  wondering 
much,  but  constantly  more  excited,  kept  pace. 

Suddenly  to  the  right  the  buildings  opened  to  show 
the  water,  and  to  the  left  a  large  garden  rose  in  a  gentle 
slope.  She  saw  and  quickened  her  step.  Then  she 
stopped.  "  There  !  "  she  whispered  again. 

A  flagged  walk  ran  from  the  iron  gate  of  the  garden 
to  the  front  of  a  great  stone  house.  Dark  and  grim  it 
frowned  upon  her,  but  she  looked  at  it  and  smiled. 
"  There  it  is,"  she  repeated,  and  clasped  her  hands. 

"  It  must  be !  "  cried  her  brother. 

"  Come,"  she  said. 

They  entered  the  gate  and  went  along  the  flags. 
"  The  knocker  is  an  eagle,"  she  stated.  "  There  is  a 
great  brass  latch."  As  they  mounted  the  steps  to  the 
porch  her  brother  saw  that  she  was  right.  He  seized 
the  knocker  and  rapped  loudly;  Alice  stood  waiting  in 
suspense,  with  her  eyes  upon  the  heavy  panelled  door. 
Who  would  come  ? 

The  latch  was  raised ;  the  door  opened  inward.  A 
little  old  woman  stood  there  looking  out.  Her  face  was 
wrinkled,  her  hair  grey,  and  she  wrapped  her  thin  hands 
in  the  folds  of  her  blue-checked  apron.  Alice  looked 
for  a  moment,  then  she  started  forward,  holding  out  her 
hands.  "  Ann !  "  she  cried. 


•148  The  Colonials 

"  Land  save  us !  "  exclaimed  the  little  woman,  retreat- 
ing. Alice  followed.  "  Ann,"  she  said  more  gently. 
"  Do  not  fear  me.  I  come  with  news  of  Frank." 

"  Frank  ?  "  cried  Ann  loudly.  Her  mouth  opened,  she 
began  to  gasp.  "  Frank?  "  she  repeated  feebly.  Some 
one  came  to  the  door  at  the  right,  and  Alice  turned  to 
see  a  tall  young  man. 

"  Dickie !  "  she  exclaimed,  her  face  beaming. 

At  the  same  moment  her  brother  spoke.  "  Ellery !  " 
he  cried.  "  So  you  live  here  ?  " 

"Yes,"  answered  Dickie,  "and  this  is  your  sister?" 
He  looked  upon  her  in  awkward  astonishment,  her 
grace,  her  sweet  face,  but  most  her  glance  of  undis- 
guised affection,  confusing  him. 

"  I  am  Alice  Tudor,"  she  said.  "  Dickie,  I  know  you 
better  than  you  think.  I  knew  your  brother  Frank." 

"  But  Alice,"  said  her  brother.  "  His  brother  was 
drowned  here,  years  ago." 

"  No,"  she  replied.  "  He  was  not  drowned.  He  went 
away  to  the  great  woods ;  he  lived  there,  and  there  I 
knew  him." 

"  Not  drowned,"  gasped  some  one  in  the  room  behind 
Dickie. 

Dickie  turned.  "  Uncle !  "  he  said,  feeling  strange 
and  afraid.  "  Here  is  such  news  !  " 

Mr.  Ellery  sat  in  his  father's  chair,  his  hands  on  its 
arms,  and  though  he  tried  to  rise  he  shook,  and  could 
not.  "Frank — "  he  repeated — "not  drowned?  What — 
what ?" 

Dickie  turned  again  suddenly,  with  joy  in  his  face. 
"  Then  where  is  he  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  But  he  is  dead,  nevertheless,"  she  answered  sadly. 
"  He  died — saving  me." 

Mr.  Ellery  gasped  again,  and  colour  came  back  to  his 


Whigs,  Tories,  and  Kedcoats  149 

face.  "Dead?"  he  demanded  hoarsely.  "Are  you 
sure  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure.'' 

He  rose  now,  though  unsteadily.  "  Did  you  see  his 
body?"  he  persisted. 

"  I  saw  his  body."  she  answered  quietly. 

"  I — "  he  said.  "  I — "  He  put  up  a  hand  to  cover  his 
mouth.  "  I  am  sorry,"  he  finished.  Ann,  who  had  been 
listening  closely,  put  her  apron  to  her  twitching  face. 

And  Dickie,  pale,  hung  his  head.  "  \Yell,"  he  sighed. 
"  Tis  the  same." 

"  'Tis  not  the  same,"  cried  Alice  with  glowing  face. 
"  Tis  not  at  all  the  same !  He  saved  my  life ;  he  gave 
himself  up  for  me ;  by  his  means  and  his  only  am  I  now 
alive.  Dickie,"  she  said,  with  hands  held  out.  "  I  took 
your  brother  from  you.  \Yill  you  not  take  a  sister  in 
return?  " 

He  seized  her  hands  and  clung  to  them.  Ann, 
through  her  tears,  watched  this  wonderful  vision.  None 
such  had  been  in  that  house  for  nearly  twenty  years. 
Mr.  Ellery,  now  quite  recovered,  stepped  affably  to 
Captain  Tudor. 

"  May  I  offer  you  and  your  sister,"  he  asked,  "  a 
glass  of  wine?  " 

But  Dickie  and  Alice  continued  to  look  at  each  other, 
he  with  frequent  bashful  glances,  astonished  and  con- 
fused, she  with  direct  and  beaming  looks.  She  was 
enraptured,  bright  with  delight  at  her  inspiration,  and 
at  the  same  time  reverently  thankful,  as  one  who  re- 
ceives a  long-denied  happiness.  Moreover,  Dickie 
pleased  her;  he  was  not  unworthy  her  anticipation. 
She  pressed  his  hand.  "  Dickie,"  she  said  softly, 
"Dickie,  my  new  brother!"  And  he,  seeing  her  sur- 
prising beauty,  so  warm  toward  him,  so  wonderfully 
pure,  could  have  fallen  at  her  feet. 


150  The  Colonials 

It  was  all  so  new  to  Alice,  so  pleasant,  and  so  strange  ! 
To  be  shown  the  house, the  portraits,  and  Frank's  room; 
to  see  Dickie  and  find  that  she  could  love  him;  to  find 
Ann ;  to  look  at  Mr.  Ellery  and  understand,  in  the  light 
of  all  that  Frank  had  told  her,  the  greatness  of  his 
littleness:  this  fascinated  her.  But  the  afternoon  was 
half  spent,  and  she  took  her  leave.  Her  brother  brought 
her  to  the  lodgings  which  he  had  prepared  for  her.  She 
felt  serenely  thankful  at  her  success,  and  wished,  to 
quiet  her  excited  heart,  only  to  be  alone  and  think. 

But  at  the  lodging  a  visitor  was  waiting,  at  the  sight 
of  whom  Tudor  gave  a  cry  of  welcome. 

"  Henry!  "  he  exclaimed.  "  This  is  very  kind!  Alice, 
here  is  Captain  Sotheran  of  ours  to  wait  upon  you,  the 
friend  of  whom  I  wrote." 

He  was  actually  reddening  before  her;  positively  diffi- 
dent and  afraid.  This  was  the  Captain  Sotheran  of 
whom  she  had  heard  so  much — the  duellist,  the  woman 
killer.  Rumour  had  flattered  him;  he  was  not  cool. 
She  smiled  and  curtseyed. 

"  Captain  Sotheran  does  me  much  honour,"  she  said. 

But  he  had  sufficient  boldness  to  read  her  face,  and 
in  her  approving  glance  gained  confidence.  "  Britain," 
he  said,  "  has  transferred  her  capital.  The  king  will 
come  to  Boston  next." 

"  Pray  spare  me,"  she  answered.  "  Or  I  myself  must 
blush.  And  lest  I  should,  be  so  kind  as  to  excuse  me, 
Captain,  for  I  am  weary  from  my  day."  She  left  the  two 
officers  alone  together,  and  Tudor  burst  into  laughter. 

"  She  herself  must  blush !  "  he  repeated.  "  Egad,  you 
were  blushing,  Henry,  and  like  a  school-boy.  Come, 
how  do  you  like  her  ?  " 

"Well!  "replied  Sotheran.  "Well,  said  I?  George—" 
he  took  Tudor  by  the  arms — "  she  is  all  you  described 
her,  and  more !  " 


Whigs,  Tories,  and  Redcoats  151 

They  smiled  together,  the  strong  man  and  the  gentle. 
They  were  perfect  complements,  as  Dickie  at  first  sight 
had  felt  them  to  be.  Each  was  the  adornment  of  the 
other,  for  force  and  grace,  firmness  and  pliancy,  haught- 
iness and  amiability,  coolness  and  warmth,  character- 
ised the  one  and  the  other.  In  a  word,  they  were  the 
grenadier  and  the  light  infantryman.  Each  had  his  own 
strength,  beauty,  and  failing — of  which  last  Sotheran's 
was  (to  the  ordinary  observer)  his  pride;  Tudor's,  that 
trustfulness  which  is  the  weakness  of  an  honest  heart. 

They  went  out.  Alice,  at  her  chamber  window,  sat  for 
an  hour,  looking  out  upon  a  street  of  that  town  of  which 
she  had  so  often  thought.  Her  emotions  were  strong 
within  her.  She  was  again  in  the  New  World ;  what 
fortune  would  it  bring? 

Happiness,  the  following  days  seemed  to  show.  She 
cared  not  that  Tory  Boston  was  at  her  feet,  that  from 
the  governor  to  Anthony  Paddock  the  men  admired  her. 
She  sought  out  Frank's  friends  and  made  them  her  own. 
She  sent  for  Rodman  Savage;  she  called  in  person  upon 
Barbara ;  she  begged  that  Doctor  Warren  would  come 
to  see  her,  and  when  he  appeared  among  Tories  and 
redcoats  she  gave  him  honour  before  them  all.  Her 
parlour  made  a  neutral  ground,  where  partisans  met  and 
laid  aside  their  differences.  Doctor  Church,  as  usual 
cultivating  his  eye  for  the  beautiful,  begged  to  be  pre- 
sented. She  drew  into  her  circle  Knox  the  bookseller, 
and  his  charming  wife.  At  her  afternoons  Tory  and 
Whig  drank  chocolate  together.  For  a  while  it  seemed 
as  if  she  were  the  unofficial  agent  of  peace  between  the 
factions. 

And  as  she  came  to  know  her  new  acquaintances 
better,  there  opened  before  her  a  path  of  happiness  as 
yet  untrod  by  her,  yet  which  for  every  woman  is  allur- 
ing. Captain  Sotheran,  as  her  brother's  dearest  friend, 


152  The  Colonials 

became  intimate  at  the  little  cottage  where  Alice,  with 
Mrs.  Drew,  who  had  come  with  her  from  England,  re- 
ceived her  friends.  The  captain  still  belied  his  reputa- 
tion. He  was  called  haughty,  cold,  a  master  rather 
than  a  suitor  of  women.  So  in  fact  he  seemed  with 
others.  But  with  Alice  he  was  yielding  and  attentive. 
a  student  of  her  wishes.  She  learned  from  others  their 
surprise  at  his  unwonted  manner;  the  distinction  was 
flattering  and  pleasant. 

Only  two  things  troubled  her.  One  was  that  Dickie, 
attracted  like  the  other  young  Tories,  was  learning  the 
London  accomplishments  which  the  officers  had  intro- 
duced. True,  he  drank  never  to  excess,  and  in  gaming 
invariably  won,  but  the  lure  had  been  fatal  to  many 
another  boy.  She  commanded  Sotheran  and  her 
brother  to  guard  Dickie  from  harm.  And  her  second 
trouble — irritation,  rather — was  that  from  day  to  day 
was  postponed  her  visit  to  the  Ellery  ropewalks.  The 
manager,  one  day  absent  in  the  country,  on  the  next  too 
busy  for  an  interview,  constantly  put  off  the  visit  for 
which  she  longed,  while  in  the  meantime  the  day  was 
drawing  near  when  for  lack  of  hemp  the  walks  must 
close.  The  manager  himself  interested  her,  so  was  he 
praised  by  the  Whigs  for  his  achievement.  Yet  she  had 
seen  neither  him  nor  the  ropewalks,  when  that  day 
arrived  on  which  General  Gage  secretly  sent  out  to 
Cambridge  and  seized  the  colony's  powder. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE    SECOND    OF    SEPTEMBER 

The  last  hemp  had  been  hackled  and  spun,  the  last 
cable  bound  in  its  coil.  The  last  customer,  a  country- 
man, took  it  in  his  cart.  The  men  watched  him  as  he 
drove  away.  Forty  spinners,  and  their  work  was  done. 
The  siege  was  finished,  the  three  months  were  over. 
Now,  like  their  fellows  of  the  other  walks,  they  were 
to  go  out  into  the  town,  work,  if  they  might,  in  the 
charity  brickyards,  and  stand  in  line  for  the  Donation 
Committee's  provisions.  The  end  had  been  delayed,  but 
it  had  come. 

The  bell  rang  for  the  last  time.  Pete,  the  foreman, 
came  from  the  counting-house  door.  "  Men,"  he  said, 
"  file  up  now  for  your  pay.  And  the  manager  is  to  give 
a  guinea  extra  to  each  married  man,  ten  shillings  to  us 
that's  single." 

The  manager  stood  at  the  counting-house  door,  look- 
ing as  they  had  always  seen  him,  resolute  and  calm. 
The  men  fell  into  file  and  walked  up  for  their  pay. 
Each  looked  him  in  the  face  and  said  his  thanks.  The 
manager  shook  each  by  the  hand,  and  warned  him  to 
keep  the  peace  of  the  town.  Then  in  groups  the  men 
went  away.  Except  for  the  few  months  of  Humphreys' 
sickness,  some  of  them  had  worked  there  half  their  lives, 
and  were  not  ashamed  of  tears.  Some  laughed  reck- 
lessly, some  swore  bitterly.  "  Blood,"  muttered  some 
as  they  thought  of  the  soldiers,  "  must  pay  for  this !  " 


154  The  Colonials 

The  manager  and  Pete  shut  the  great  gates,  and 
locked  them  with  the  heavy  padlock.  Roger,  the 
manager's  protege,  was  with  them.  The  two  men  faced 
each  other  and  struck  hands.  Pete  choked  and  could 
not  speak ;  the  other  also  was  moved.  In  forty  years 
the  Ellery  walks  had  not  stopped  work.  They  turned 
in  opposite  directions,  and  Roger  kept  at  the  manager's 
side,  to  be  presently  dismissed. 

"  Go  home,"  said  his  protector  kindly.  "  Ask  Nick  if 
you  can  help  him  in  any  way,  and  wait  until  I  come/' 
Alone,  the  manager  walked  toward  the  Common,  busied 
with  his  thoughts. 

He  drew  an  audible  breath  at  last,  and  raised  his 
head.  He  looked  about  him  as  a  new  man.  "  Myself 
again !  "  he  said.  "  Now  things  will  change."  They 
were  changed  already.  The  buildings  seemed  finer,  the 
streets  broader,  the  very  sky  bluer  as  he  walked  along. 
With  a  different  eye  he  looked  each  man  in  the  face  as 
he  passed,  and  when  he  reached  the  Common  he  stood 
and  surveyed  it  as  one  that  had  come  into  his  heritage. 

Bright  was  the  sun  on  that  September  day,  the  grass 
was  richest  green,  the  tents  gleamed  white.  Far  as  he 
saw  were  glinting  arms  in  motion,  and  marching  troops 
gave  contrast  to  the  musing  herd  that  couched  upon 
the  slope.  The  regiments  were  exercising;  in  one  place, 
where  was  firing  at  a  mark,  smoke  puffed  repeatedly, 
and  the  reports  came  to  his  ears  against  the  wind. 
Upon  the  Mall  were  gentlemen  and  ladies,  officers, 
Tories,  and  even  Whigs,  differing  strongly  in  their 
homespun  dress  from  those  in  gayer  colours.  From 
the  nearer  groups  he  heard  laughter,  and  a  strain  of 
military  music  came.  A  holiday  and  careless  scene  it 
was  to  him  who  came  there  with  a  purpose. 

He  mingled  with  the  crowd  and  sought  his  friends. 
They  were  not  upon  the  Mall,  he  did  not  find  them 


Whigs,   Tories,  and  Redcoats  155 

along  its  length.  He  saw  Mistress  Oliver  with  her  little 
court,  and  Lady  Harriet  Leland,  far  eclipsing  the  pro- 
vincial beauty  with  her  admiring  train.  There  were 
handsome  Tory  gentlemen  and  resplendent  bucks  and 
sparks ;  there  were  fine  ladies  in  silks  and  laces,  scarcely 
more  soberly  decked  for  the  morning  promenade  than 
for  an  evening  entertainment.  But  nowhere  did  he  see 
the  form  he  sought.  At  last  by  the  firing-squad  he  per- 
ceived a  little  group,  and  hastened  thither. 

There  were  Rodman  and  Barbara,  with  Tudor  close 
at  hand.  There  stood  great  lumbering  Dickie,  and  by 
his  side  a  graceful  figure.  The  manager  halted ;  none 
of  them  had  seen  him.  That  was  Alice,  looking  brightly 
into  Dickie's  face.  A  youthful  form,  a  woman's  eye 
and  serious  mouth — no  spoiled  beauty,  no  sophisticated 
London  belle.  Here  there  was  none  to  court  or  flatter ; 
she  was  at  ease.  She  was  in  health,  her  cheeks  said 
that ;  with  friends,  and  with  such  friends !  Therefore 
she  was  happy.  The  manager,  as  he  looked  upon  her, 
felt  his  bosom  warm. 

He  hesitated  to  speak  to  her.  How  should  he  speak, 
what  should  he  say?  How  could  he  make  her  know 
him? — This  is  what  happened. 

Tudor  had  been  showing  off  his  company  to  Barbara, 
and  with  small  success.  The  target,  at  no  great  dis- 
tance, was  little  marred ;  Tudor  was  vexed.  Worse  than 
that,  a  lazy  countryman  who  had  sold  his  produce  and 
wandered  on  the  Common  to  see  the  soldiers,  leaned 
against  a  tree  and  laughed.  "  Why,  Cap'n,"  was  his 
final  taunt,  "  your  men  couldn't  hit  a  barn,  let  alone  a 
haouse.  I  shouldn't  care  to  be  fishin'  out  there  on  the 
Back  Bay.  B'gosh,  three-quarters  of  your  bullets  hit 
the  water." 

The  men  were  angry,  and  muttered.  Tudor  saw  that 
Barbara  struggled  with  a  laugh,  while  Rodman  was 


156  The  Colonials 

studying  the  ground.  "  Well,"  he  demanded  of  the 
countryman,  "  could  you  do  as  well?  " 

"As  well?  Gosh!  As  well?  Naow,  Cap'n!  If  my 
boy  Tom,  that's  only  fifteen,  couldn't  hit  that  target 
every  time,  at  this  little  distance,  I'd  whop  him  good." 

Barbara  turned  away  suddenly.  Tudor  flushed. 
"  Corporal,"  he  said  sharply.  "  Bring  here  three  mus- 
kets. Now,  my  man,  you  shall  give  me  a  proof  of  your 
shooting." 

"  One  gun'll  do,"  said  the  fellow  undisturbed.  "  But 
I'll  load  it  myself."  He  watched  the  men  offer  their 
guns  eagerly  to  the  corporal.  "  Guess  your  men,  Cap'n, 
don't  like  to  have  me  laffin'  at  'em.  I'll  take  this  one." 
He  balanced  it  in  his  hand.  "  Lord !  what  a  heavy 
thing!  Loaded?  Well  then."  He  fired  at  a  tree  and 
watched  the  result.  "  Kicks  like  a  mule.  No  wonder, 
Cap'n,  your  men  can't  shoot.  Twice  too  much  paowder 
to  the  ball.  Naow,  if  you  please,  I'll  show  you  what." 

He  loaded;  a  village  wit  he  seemed  ,  >  be,  and  kept  on 
with  his  talking.  "  We  use  balls  half  the  weight  of  these. 
Go  jes'  as  far,  Cap'n;  kill  jes'  as  quick.  Save  paowder, 
save  lead,  save  weight  in  marchin'.  Means  a  lighter  gun. 
My  gun  to  home  weighs  two  paound  less'n  this,  I  swear 
naow.  These  guns  are  all  right  on  parade,  I  guess,  but 
marchin'  in  a  rough  country ' 

Tudor  cut  him  short.  "  Your  gun  is  loaded.  Let 
me  see  you  shoot." 

The  yokel  was  alert,  and  aimed.  The  soldiers  craned 
their  necks  to  see ;  Barbara,  Rodman,  Dickie,  and  Alice, 
pressed  nearer.  The  fellow  fired,  and  dropped  the  butt 
upon  the  ground.  Alice  clapped  her  hands.  "  A  bulls- 
eye!" 

"  B'gosh,"  said  the  grinning  fellow,  looking  round. 
"  You're  pretty,  my  lady,  and  see  well.  Where's  that 
fellow  going?  Come  back,  Corp'ral.  Can't  you  see  the 


Whigs,  Tories,  and  Redcoats  157 

hole? "  He  loaded  again,  rattling  the  ramrod  in  and  out 
the  barrel.  His  hitherto  lazy  motions  seemed  now  as 
quick  as  sight.  His  eyes  snapped.  "  Cap'n,  can  your 
men  load  as  quick  as  this?  Stand  away,  Corp'ral.  I'll 
show  you  naow.  Mark,  Cap'n.  Jes'  above  the  other 
hole."  He  fired,  and  Alice  cried  again  to  her  brother: 
"  George,  he  has  done  it!  "  The  second  hole  was  close 
above  the  first. 

"  Shall  I  fire  again  ?  "  asked  the  countryman. 

Tudor  stood  blank,  but  recovered  himself  well.  He 
turned  to  Alice  and  smiled.  "  This  is  such  shooting  as 
Frank's  was,  Alice." 

She  shook  her  head.  "Not  at  all!"  she  declared. 
"  To  hit  something  moving  is  far  more  difficult." 

"  I  can  do  that,  too,"  said  the  yokel.  He  loaded  the 
gun  again.  "  What  shall  I  hit  ?  " 

"  Give  the  gun  to  me,"  said  the  manager  from  behind. 

They  turned  to  him,  but  he  did  not  look  at  them.  He 
took  the  gun  from  the  countryman  and  gazed  out  on 
the  water.  There  were  as  always  gulls  upon  the  bay, 
fishing,  screaming,  and  quarrelling.  Some  floated  on  the 
water,  some  swept  across  the  line  of  sight.  None  suited 
him.  They  watched  him  as  he  frowned  and  looked. 
Alice,  with  a  little  gasp,  crept  up  to  her  brother,  and  put 
her  hand  in  his.  Tudor  glanced  at  her  an  instant,  smil- 
ing. "  This  is  Dickie's  manager,"  he  said. 

"  No,"  she  whispered,  in  a  tone  of  awe. 

A  gull  detached  itself  from  the  rest,  heading  for  the 
harbour.  It  came  directly  at  the  group,  flying  high, 
meaning  to  pass  overhead,  going  with  speed  before  the 
wind.  It  was  the  hardest  shot  the  bird  could  present. 
While  it  was  yet  some  forty  yards  away  the  manager 
raised  his  gun  and  on  the  instant  fired.  The  gull  was 
struck  in  the  breast,  seemed  to  crumple  like  paper,  and 


The  Colonials 

fell  a  mass  of  feathers.  Tudor,  the  soldiers,  even  Rod- 
man and  the  countryman  cried  out. 

The  manager  gave  the  gun  to  the  corporal  and  turned 
to  his  friends.  Barbara  smiled,  Dickie  cried  "  Bravo !  " 
He  paid  no  attention.  Alice  stood  by  her  brother,  shak- 
ing and  pale.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  manager's, 
fear  was  visible  in  her  face.  He  stepped  to  her  and  held 
out  his  hands.  He  spoke,  himself  much  moved. 

"  Do  you  not  know  me?  " 

"  Frank !  "  she  cried,  and  clung  to  him  trembling. 

There  they  stood  together,  crowned  with  happiness. 
She  gazed  at  him  through  tears,  her  soul  in  her  eyes ; 
between  her  parted  lips  scarce  passed  the  fluttering 
breath.  And  he,  after  so  long  watching,  so  long  wait- 
ing, after  such  time  at  last  himself  again,  at  last  with 
her,  could  scarce  command  the  emotion  of  his  breast. 
For  moments  thus  they  stood,  forgetful  of  all  else 
beside  each  other.  Then  Dickie,  almost  falling,  tottered 
near;  Barbara,  Rodman,  Tudor,  utterly  astonished, 
drew  close 

A  bugle  blew;  paused  not,  but  still  blared,  insist- 
ent and  alarming.  Then  the  clamour  of  drums  struck 
tipon  the  ear;  the  long  roll  rose  from  each  regimental 
quarter.  The  staring  soldiers  snatched  their  rattling 
arms.  The  sounds  forced  themselves  on  Tudor's  un- 
willing senses;  he  turned,  perplexed.  An  adjutant 
came  running,  stopped  at  a  distance,  and  shouted: 

"  Captain  Tudor  !  "  he  cried.  "  Bring  your  men  in ! 
The  colonials  are  marching  on  the  town !  "  He  turned 
and  hastened  back. 

Tudor  saw  that  the  Common  was  in  confusion.  A 
platoon  passed  at  the  double;  mounted  officers  dashed 
back  and  forth.  The  artillery  horses,  summoned  from 
their  exercise,  came  on  the  gallop,  buckles  and  harness 
ringing.  Tudor  seized  Frank's  hand  and  wrenched  it 


Whigs,  Tories,  and  Redcoats  159 

once,  then  sprang  to  his  men.  In  another  instant  he 
and  his  company  were  hastening  to  their  regiment. 

Dickie  staggered  to  his  brother,  and  looked  him  in 
the  face.  "  What  ?"  he  asked.  "Frank?  What?" 

"  She  is  fainting,"  cried  Barbara. 

Frank  caught  Alice  as  her  strength  failed.  He  raised 
her  on  his  arm.  Then  he  met  Dickie's  eye.  "  Dear 
boy !  "  he  said.  But  the  sounds  from  the  troops  were 
not  to  be  disregarded.  Some  one  again  shouted:  "  The 
colonials  are  coming !  "  In  one  glance  Frank  surveyed 
the  Common,  the  soldiers  in  a  swarming  mass,  the 
pleasure-seekers  flying.  Again  he  looked  at  the  uncon- 
scious Alice. 

A  voice  cried  "  Rodman  !  " 

It  was  Doctor  Warren,  walking  rapidly  with  other 
Whigs  of  influence.  He  beckoned  Rodman.  "  I  shall 
need  you,"  he  called.  Rodman,  with  a  last  glance  at  his 
new-found  friend,  went  after  the  doctor.  The  noise  of 
the  troops  increased;  the  heavy  sound  of  moving  cannon 
came.  Two  men  passed  close  at  hand:  the  governor, 
anxious  and  perplexed;  and  the  lieutenant-governor, 
Oliver,  his  wig  awry,  as  from  a  hurried  journey. 

'  'Tis  not  a  mad  mob,"  Frank  heard  him  say;  "but 
determined.  They  are  marshalled  in  order.  You  must 
not  think  of  sending  troops  against  them."  They 
passed  on. 

Frank  turned  to  his  brother  and  placed  Alice,  now 
first  moving,  in  his  arms.  "  Take  her  home,  Dickie — 
Barbara !  "  he  took  both  her  hands  and  kissed  them. 
"Take  care  of  her;  I  must  go."  He  hastened  after 
Rodman. 


Hook  Three 


*  AN  ARMED  TRUCE 


>  Chapter  One 


S,  during  a  long  period  of  dry  sum- 
mer weather,  storms  are  expected 
but  do  not  come,  and  in  the  quiet 
of  each  evening  distant  thunder  is 
heard,  from  day  to  day  louder,  so 
through  the  year  had  increased  the 
ominous  muttering  of  the  people. 
And  as  some  day,  in  the  heat,  clouds  gather  and  over- 
hang, and  from  their  black  bosoms  send  out  threaten- 
ing flashes,  but  finally  pass  away  unbroken  into  peace 
again,  so  on  that  September  morning  it  seemed  that 
rebellion  had  come,  but  by  night  all  was  quiet  once 
more.  Yet  as  the  storm  would  surely  return,  so  would 
the  outbreak  certainly  come,  unless  those  who  held 
power  should  hasten  to  avert  it. 

For  on  the  news  that  the  governor  had  seized  the 
colony's  store  of  powder,  and  in  so  doing  had  killed 
citizens  (but  the  last  report  was  false),  four  provinces 
rose  in  arms,  and  the  roads  were  black  with  armed 
men  hurrying  toward  Boston.  Nothing  was  more 


164  The  Colonials 

determined  than  their  intention  to  seize  the  town  and 
drive  out  the  soldiers.  But  leaders  among  the  Ameri- 
cans represented  to  them  that  no  one  had  been  killed, 
that  the  governor  had  a  right  to  take  the  powder,  and 
that  for  the  present  there  was  no  excuse  for  an  attack. 
For  the  present! 

Though  the  men  of  Massachusetts,  Connecticut, 
Rhode  Island,  and  New  Hampshire  returned  to  their 
homes,  they  sent  word  to  the  Whigs  of  Boston  that  they 
would  come  again  when  needed.  They  advised  a  careful 
guard  over  the  remainder  of  the  powder,  and  secretion 
of  all  arms  from  seizure.  The  news  travelled  on  to  the 
South,  and  each  colony  responded  in  its  manner,  but 
each  angrily,  to  the  word  that  citizens  had  been  killed. 
In  that  response  some  were  wise  enough  to  read  the 
terrible  future. 

The  troops  did  not  read  it,  clamouring  to  be  led  out 
against  the  rabble.  But  General  Gage,  the  governor, 
read  it,  and  commenced  from  that  day  to  fortify  the 
town.  The  Tories  later  laughed  and  forgot  it;  even  that 
commissioner  who  came  into  Boston  on  the  gallop, 
homespun  horsemen  at  his  heels,  declared  that  the 
Whigs  were  cowards.  But  many  a  man  upon  the  other 
side  saw  at  once  what  a  force  was  ready  to  be  loosed, 
and  trembled  when  he  thought  of  the  possible  results. 

Francis  Ellery  saw,  and  knew  that  he  could  not  yet 
dare  to  bring  about  his  duel.  One  single  spark  might 
set  the  country  in  a  flame ;  all  personal  desires  must  be 
subdued  in  such  a  crisis.  Yet  Frank  could  wait  for  a 
while  without  harm.  It  was  in  other  ways  that  the 
events  of  the  day  had  done  injury  to  his  plans,  for  while 
he  was  in  Cambridge  others  had  been  given  time  to 
think,  and  to  form  their  resolves  in  his  absence.  Alice, 
namely,  and  his  uncle  the  old  fox. 

Tudor  met  him  at  the  ferry,  and  seized  him  to  bring 


An  Armed  Truce  165 

him  to  Alice.  He  himself  had  been  of  the  guard  at  the 
Neck,  the  position  of  excitement.  Alice  had  been  over- 
come for  a  while ;  at  least  he  had  not  been  able  to  see 
her  just  now  when  he  went  to  her  apartment.  There- 
fore he  had  come  out  to  search  for  Ellery.  In  his 
hurried  sentences,  but  more  in  his  eager,  manly  glances, 
Frank  read  the  affection  and  delight  which  Tudor  could 
not  bring  himself  to  utter.  And  what,  finished  the  cap- 
tain, had  the  Americans  been  doing  in  Cambridge  the 
while  ? 

Oh,  merely  passing  resolves,  and  disposing  of  some 
councillors  and  the  high  sheriff. 

"  Disposing !  "  cried  Tudor,  aghast.    "  Killing,  man  ?  " 

Only  taking  their  resignations ;  even  the  lieutenant- 
governor  resigned  from  the  council.  And  for  the  same 
purpose  Commissioner  Hallowell  was  wanted,  but  he 
fled  on  his  chaise-horse  and  escaped.  Then  Frank  told 
of  the  orderly  meeting  at  Cambridge,  the  militia  stand- 
ing in  companies,  their  arms  laid  aside,  while  one  by 
one  resolves  were  passed,  or  resignations  accepted. 
The  quiet  dispersion  at  last,  and  the  turning  back  of  the 
thousands  who  still  had  been  coming. 

But  they  were  ready  to  rise  again,  no  doubt?  No 
doubt  whatever,  and  a  silence  fell  between  them  as  they 
meditated,  the  one  on  his  responsibilities  as  an  officer 
of  troops  among  an  irritating  people,  the  other  upon 
the  changes  in  the  town  since  morning. 

There  were  many  people  upon  the  streets — officers  in 
their  uniforms,  disappointed  that  there  was  no  fight; 
and  soldiers  inclined  to  be  quarrelsome  now  that  the 
danger  had  passed.  The  ever-inquisitive  inhabitants 
were  gathering  news,  and  the  idle  workmen  were  more 
than  half  willing  to  meet  the  soldiers  on  their  own 
terms.  But  besides  these — the  usual  sights  and  groups 
of  the  town — Frank  saw  standing  here  and  there  carts 


1 66  The  Colonials 

with  bundles  of  personal  belongings,  with  women  and 
children  sitting  waiting.  Men  dusty  with  travel  enquired 
for  lodging  from  door  to  door.  And  the  young  Whig 
smiled,  but  not  with  pleasure,  for  these  were  refugees 
from  the  country — Tories  frightened  from  their  homes 
by  the  events  of  the  day. 

"  Egad,"  said  Tudor  presently.  "  I  can't  laugh  with 
our  fellows,  or  wish  for  fight.  But  to  speak  of  our- 
selves," and  he  made  an  effort.  "  This  is  the  second 
great  day  of  my  life ;  the  first  was  when  Alice  returned. 
Ellery,  I  welcome  you  heartily.  Had  I  chosen  among 
all  my  acquaintance,  you  would  have  been  the  man. 
Everything  I  have  is  yours.  My  friends  shall  be  yours, 
even  Sotheran." 

"  Not  Sotheran,"  said  Frank. 

"  Yes,  but  he  will,"  said  Tudor.  "  He  is  a  good  fellow ; 
I  will  explain,  and  everything  shall  be  forgotten." 

"  Not  Sotheran,"  repeated  Frank. 

"  See,  there  he  goes,"  cried  Tudor,  not  hearing.  "  He 
has  entered  our  cottage.  Come  on,  we  shall  find  him  in 
Alice's  parlour."  And  in  Alice's  parlour  they  found  the 
captain,  the  maid  about  to  leave  him.  He  stood  sur- 
prised, and  stared  for  a  moment  at  Frank  as  they 
entered. 

"  Tell  your  mistress,"  said  Tudor  to  the  servant,  "that 
I  have  come." 

"  And  that  I  have  gone,"  added  Sotheran,  turning 
to  the  door.  But  he  had  to  pass  Tudor,  who  detained 
him,  laughing. 

"  Xay,  Henry,"  he  protested.  "  Stop.  You  shall  not 
go.  Here  is  the  strangest  thing.  Let  me  tell  you.  You 
know  this  gentleman?  " 

The  captain  turned  and  looked  Frank  up  and  down. 
He  smiled,  a  haughty  smile  from  the  haughty  soul  of 
him.  Tall,  handsome,  fine  in  his  brilliant  uniform,  he 


An  Armed  Truce  167 

seemed  to  light  the  apartment  as  with  the  gleam  of  the 
star  Lucifer.  Frank,  standing  quiet  in  his  sober  clothes, 
could  but  admire.  "  I  remember  this  gentleman," 
Sotheran  said.  "  We  have  an  engagement." 

"  You  shall  give  it  up,"  said  Tudor.  "  I  will  persuade 
you.  Henry,  this  is  the  best  friend  I  have  in  all  the 
earth." 

The  captain  smiled  again,  and  looking  upon  his 
shorter  friend,  tapped  his  shoulder  carelessly,  as  one 
indulgently  reminds  a  child.  "  George,"  he  said,  "  that 
best  friend  of  whom  you  used  to  boast,  is  dead." 

"  Nay,"  cried  Tudor  with  delight.  "  He  lives,  and 
here  he  stands.  Henry,  this  is  he — Frank  Ellery!  " 

Sotheran  stepped  back  one  pace,  and  for  an  instant 
dropped  his  mask  of  carelessness.  As  a  miser,  at  an 
alarm,  opens  a  painted  window  and  looks  out,  so  this 
guardian  of  a  secret  showed  his  proper  face,  where 
fear  and  fury  blended.  "  What !  "  he  cried ;  and  his 
hands  clenched. 

'  'Tis  he,"  laughed  Tudor  gaily.  "  I  knew  you'd  be 
surprised.  Well,  no  welcome  for  him?  Jealous, 
Henry?" 

"  Nay — nay,"  said  Sotheran,  recovering,  and  now 
with  courage  regarding  the  man  who  looked  upon  him 
calmly.  "  Not  so,  but  quite  surprised  indeed." 

"  Greet  him!  "  cried  Tudor.     "  You  shall  be  friends." 

But  they  made  no  movement  toward  each  other;  in- 
stead, they  coldly  bowed.  Sotheran,  himself  again, 
spread  fair  his  hand  upon  his  heart.  "  Mr.  Ellery,  your 
humble  servant." 

"  Yours,  sir,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Very  fine,"  said  Tudor,  puzzled.  "  But  very  formal. 
You  are  forgetting  to  shake  hands.  Come,  absolve  each 
other  from  your  engagement.  It  must  be  dropped." 

"  Willingly,"  agreed  Sotheran. 


1 68  The  Colonials 

"  My  dear  Tudor,"  said  Frank,  and  Tudor  in  the  in- 
terest of  the  question  did  not  note  the  subject  turned. 
"  Before  your  sister  comes  pray  satisfy  my  curiosity. 
Here  is  your  best  friend  come  to  life.  Your  worst 
enemy,  of  whom  once  I  heard  you  speak — is  he  then 
surely  dead?  " 

"  Of  all  men,"  cried  Tudor,  "  you  should  know!  " 

"  Is  there  record  of  his  death  upon  the  rolls  ?  " 

The  maid  appeared  at  the  door.  "  May  Mistress 
Tudor  speak  with  her  brother  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  answered  Tudor.  "  I  leave  you  two  to- 
gether. Make  it  up,  now.  Answer  his  questions, 
Henry." 

The  door  shut  behind  him,  and  the  two  looked  at  one 
another.  The  deepest  interest,  the  keenest  study,  held 
their  glances  fixed,  and  they  spoke  slowly,,  steadily. 
Though  Sotheran  appeared  to  lounge  and  smile,  though 
Frank  might  seem  at  ease,  there  was  a  tension  in  each 
brain,  and  they  were  merely  actors. 

"There  was  a  record,  Captain?" 

"  Ay,"  said  Sotheran.  "  Only  one  lieutenant  was 
killed  on  the  frontier  in  '72.  Killed  by  Indians,  the  list 
said,  but  of  course  it  was  the  same." 

"  And  his  name  ?  " 

"Must  you  know?"  asked  the  other.  "I  have  it 
written  somewhere.  But  I  begged  Tudor  not  to  enquire. 
The  man  is  dead.  His  family — his  mother  or  sister — 
would  be  injured  by  the  scandal.  Would  it  not  be  better 
not  to  ask?  " 

He  looked  Frank  in  the  face,  and  put  his  question 
fairly.  There  was  no  answer,  and  they  stood  gazing. 
Though  homespun  contrasted  with  the  king's  livery, 
there  was  likeness  in  their  eyes,  their  mouths  firm  set, 
their  cool  composure.  Nearly  a  minute  thus  they  stood. 


An  Armed  Truce  169 

Then  smiles  grew  on  the  face  of  each,  the  American's 
grim,  the  Englishman's  bland. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Ellery,"  asked  the  captain  in  his  most 
urbane  tones,  "  have  you  enjoyed  the  day  of  excite- 
ment?" 

"  Captain  Sotheran,"  enquired  the  other,  "  have  you  a 
mother,  or  a  sister?  " 

Then  the  tiger  looked  out  of  the  officer's  eyes,  and 
his  hands  clenched  once  more.  One  stole  to  his  sword 
hilt,  but  there,  in  that  room,  no  murder  was  possible, 
and  Frank  was  secure.  The  hate  that  glared  on  him,  the 
surprise  and  the  fear :  these  were  his  revenge  after  two 
years.  But  the  moment  was  brief.  The  devil  dis- 
appeared from  Sotheran's  face,  and  his  laugh  was  a 
marvel. 

"  No  relatives!  "  he  cried.  "  No  sisters,  no  mother  to 
mourn  me.  Ah,  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Ellery.  What 
is  life  without  an  enemy?  Ten  minutes  ago,  and  I 
scorned  you.  Now  I  can  hate — at  least  until  to-morro\v 
morning.  At  what  hour  shall  it  be,  and  where?  A 
clear  sunrise,  a  quiet  spot.  Then  he  who  leaves  the 
place  can  even  love  the  other." 

Frank  smiled. 

"  Let  me  propose,"  said  Sotheran,  "  a  solitary  meet- 
ing. We  can  be  more  thorough.  I  despise  humane 
interruptions." 

"  And  besides,"  added  Frank,  "  there  will  be  no  dying 
words,  no  last  statement." 

"  I  see  we  agree.  Six  o'clock,  let  us  say.  And  to- 
morrow? " 

"  Not  to-morrow,"  said  Frank. 

"Still  a  coward?"  asked  Sotheran  as  with  pity. 

"  Merely  curious,"  was  the  reply,  "  to  see  what  you 
will  do.  I  give  you  rope " 

"  A  noble  simile,  oh  valiant  tradesman !  " 


1 70  The  Colonials 

"  Knowing,"  finished  Frank.  "  That  you  will  hang 
yourself.  Dear  Captain,  you  are  mine,  and  when  I 
choose " 

"  You  will  tell !  "  he  exclaimed  with  contempt. 

"Ah!  no,  for  then  Tudor  would  kill  you.  That 
pleasure  I  reserve  for  myself."  They  heard  voices  in 
the  next  room ;  the  latch  rattled.  "  Captain  Sotheran, 
good  evening." 

The  hint  was  as  broad  as  the  butt  of  a  musket,  but 
in  his  departure  Sotheran  showed  well.  A  look  of  mer- 
riment grew  on  his  face.  "  Dear  friend,"  he  said,  "  wel- 
come back!  Now  is  there  interest  in  life,  and  a  cam- 
paign begins.  Good  evening."  And  smiling  still,  he 
shut  the  door  behind  him. 

At  the  other  door  Alice  entered,  timidly,  her  hands 
trembling  before  her.  And  here  was  a  study  in  tender- 
ness, which  Frank,  turning  from  that  defiance  of  his 
enemy,  could  not  decipher. 

How  had  she  dwelt  on  his  image  in  these  years,  how 
loftily  enshrined  him  in  her  heart !  He,  whose  con- 
sideration caused  the  sacrifice  of  his  ambition,  whose 
devotion  cost  him  his  life,  had  become  to  her  a  wonder- 
ful ideal ;  and  as  time  went  by  her  heart,  yearning  for  its 
master,  turned  unhappily  to  the  one  man  who  might 
have  ruled  it.  The  memory  of  him  had  not  lessened;  not 
gratitude,  but  understanding  of  him,  caused  her  con- 
stant pain;  and  Alice,  when  she  had  lost  him,  loved  him. 
She  saw  before  her  a  life  without  other  love  than  this, 
and  being  a  woman  made  to  enjoy  rather  than  to 
renounce,  but  at  the  same  time  steadfast,  she  had  prayed 
daily  with  tears  for  the  miracle  of  his  return.  From 
this  cause  sprang  the  melancholy  in  her  life ;  she  was  as 
a  woman  widowed. 

Then  when  he  came,  light  flashed  up.  The  phantom 
rose  before  her  and  became  flesh  and  blood ;  she  saw 


An  Armed  Truce  171 

him,  ami  lie  was  the  same.  His  manly  form,  which  for 
her  had  borne  enormous  burdens ;  his  face,  refined  by 
hardship ;  and  then  his  voice,  thrilling  with  every  noble 
quality  of  his  mind:  were  not  less  than  in  remembrance. 
Waves  of  sensation  beat  upon  her  heart,  surprise  and 
joy  surged  over  her.  The  heavens  seemed  to  open,  she 
was  blinded,  then  lifted  up,  and  in  the  ecstasy  of  the 
moment  all  things  were  lost. 

When  she  recovered  herself,  he  was  gone.  Barbara 
would  have  attended  her,  but  Alice  desired  only  to  be 
alone.  Then  when  she  might  think,  the  woman  in  her 
rose  up  and  drove  out  the  visionary,  and  she  began  to 
fear. 

She  loved  him,  and  she  knew  it.  The  dread,  lest  the 
rebellion  should  begin  and  he  this  time  be  surely  lost, 
was  quick  to  show  her  what  her  feeling  was.  But  then, 
did  he  love  her?  Why  had  he,  alive  and  able  to  com- 
municate with  her,  remained  as  dead?  She  saw  his  pur- 
poses; but  might  he  not  have  told  to  her  his  secret? 
He  would  have,  if  he  had  loved  her.  Of  course  he  did 
not  love  her.  Then  she  must  love  in  secret. 

And  so,  when  fearfully  she  advanced  to  meet  him,  she 
greeted  him  as  she  had  determined.  Her  composure 
was  but  manner,  and  one  could  know  it  from  her  trem- 
bling hands.  Her  sweetness  did  but  disguise  the  salt  of 
tears;  and  her  voice  shook  when  she  spoke.  Frank 
might  have  seen.  But  his  heart  was  still  stirred  with 
anger,  his  soul  was  stern.  He  could  not  know  the 
tenderness  that  threatened  to  betray  her  as  she  bade 
him  :  "  Welcome,  brother !  " 

"  Brother!  "  repeated  Sotheran  in  the  hall.  He  took 
his  ear  from  the  door  and  tiptoed  away,  sardonically 
pleased. 

Brother!  Water  fell  upon  the  sparks  of  Frank's 
emotion.  He  was  half  Indian,  trained  to  stoicism,  and 


172  The  Colonials 

instantly  he  took  the  place  she  gave  him,  kissing  a 
sister's  hand.  Her  lips  yearned  but  to  touch  his  hair  as 
he  stooped  before  her. 

"  Brother !  "  grumbled  Tudor  when  Ellery  had  gone. 
"  If  he  is  not  more  than  brother  when  the  year  is 
out " 

But  Alice  escaped  with  her  tears.  She  had  learned 
that  Frank  had  written,  and  she  had  not  answered.  And 
he  was  to  be  her  brother  now,  until  he  wanted  to  be 
more. 


CHAPTER    II 

THE    HOME-COMING 

And  Frank? 

When  he,  from  his  interview  with  Alice,  came  at 
last  to  the  old  library  where  Mr.  Ellery  sat  sunk  in  the 
great  chair,  and  Dickie  sulkily  poked  the  dead  fire,  his 
reception  was  ready. 

It  was  an  interesting  picture,  could  he  have  regarded 
it  dispassionately.  The  broad  back  of  his  brother  was 
eloquently  turned,  and  his  savage  thrusts  at  the  charred 
sticks  spoke  loud  of  uncertainty.  The  uncle's  visage 
was  composed  into  resignation,  as  he  prepared  to  fight 
for  all  he  had.  There  were  no  opening  words  of  wel- 
come nor  pretence  of  cordiality.  Frank  halted  at  the 
door.  Mr.  Ellery  remained  seated,  and  bore  the  gaze  of 
his  nephew  with  considerable  success.  When  he  felt 
that  his  eyes  must  fall,  he  turned  his  look  to  Dickie  with 
a  sigh,  and  spoke. 

"  So,  Frank,  you  have  been  deceiving  us." 

Frank  understood,  and  saw  that  the  fight  was  for  the 
possession  of  Dickie's  mind.  Dickie  was  listening  for 
his  answer. 

"  Have  you  no  welcome  home  for  me,  uncle — or 
Dickie  ?  "  he  asked  a  little  sadly. 

Dickie  stirred  as  if  to  turn.  Mr.  Ellery  spoke  quickly. 
"  Have  you  not  forfeited  a  welcome  ?  " 

"Have  I,  uncle?" 

"  When  you  returned  last  December,  why  did  you  not 
come  to  us?  " 


The  Colonials 

"  Do  you  not  know,  sir?  " 

"  Oh!  "  cried  his  uncle.  "  I  am  pained  to  the  heart  by 
this  underhand  action  of  yours.  That  you  could  so  de- 
ceive me,  and  so  spy  upon  me " 

"  Spy  upon  you?  " 

Mr.  Ellery's  sallow  cheek  grew  paler  still.  "  I  expect 
an  apology,  Francis." 

Frank  saw  now  no  further  change  in  Dickie's  attitude. 
"  I  prefer  to  explain,  sir,"  he  answered.  "  Did  you  not 
once,  in  this  very  room,  swear  to  keep  me  from  the  rope- 
walks  till  Dickie  came  of  age?  " 

"  I  never  meant  it,  Francis,"  answered  his  uncle. 

"  You  swore  upon  the  Bible.  When  I  came  last  De- 
cember and  found  the  business  on  the  brink  of  ruin,  and 
knew  that  I,  and  only  I,  could  save  it,  could  I  do  other- 
wise than  I  did?" 

"  Francis,"  said  his  uncle  very  gravely,  "  you  should 
have  come  to  me.  I  would  gladly  have  given  you  the 
management  of  the  walks." 

One  of  the  phenomena  of  our  mental  nature  came 
suddenly  to  Mr.  Ellery's  aid.  Into  Frank's  mind,  stirred 
as  it  was  by  the  discussion,  came  the  word  "  brother," 
uttered  sweetly.  It  passed  quickly,  but  stung  him  into 
sharp  speech. 

"  I  do  not  believe  you!  "  he  answered. 

"  Frank!  "  cried  Dickie,  starting  up. 

Mr.  Ellery  also  rose. 

"  Let  there  be  no  quarrel,"  he  said.  "  There  can  be  no 
further  argument  between  us.  You  have  not  trusted 
me,  Frank;  but  you  are  welcome  home.  I  shall  be 
patient  with  you,  and  when  you  are  ready  to  be  friends 
with  me  you  shall  find  me  waiting."  With  a  dignity  in- 
spired by  his  words,  he  left  the  room.  He  climbed  the 
stairs  to  his  own  chamber  and  stood  there,  thinking  ner- 


An  Armed  Truce  175 

vously.  But  his  last  look  at  Dickie  had  given  him 
courage. 

Dickie  had  sat  listening,  pulled  both  ways.  Frank's 
voice  had  thrilled  him,  but  the  habit  of  respect  and 
obedience  was  not  at  once  to  be  shaken  off.  Frank's 
final,  open  disbelief  of  Mr.  Ellery's  word  brought  Dickie 
to  his  feet  indignant. 

Yet  as  he  faced  his  brother,  alone,  the  strong  and 
earnest  face  before  him  tempered  his  feeling.  "  What 
will  he  say?  "  thought  Frank,  and  waited.  Dickie  strug- 
gled for  words,  but  before  he  could  find  them  his  protest 
faded  into  disappointed  pleading. 

"Would  you  not  even  apologise?"  asked  Dickie. 
"  Once  more  with  us,  and  already  defiant?  It  was  rea- 
sonable for  him  to  feel  hurt,  and  for  me.  You  do  not 
seem  to  have  considered  us.  Had  you  no  heart?  " 

"  Dickie,"  asked  Frank,  "do  you  know  that  you  de- 
cided me  to  keep  unknown?" 

"I?  "cried  Dickie. 

"  I  found  when  I  came  back,  Dickie,  my  teachings 
forgotten.  I  left  you  opposed  to  uncle;  I  found  you 
friends  with  him.  I  left  you  a  Whig;  I  found  you  a  Tory. 
Yes,  I  had  a  heart,  and  it  was  cruelly  hurt.  What  place 
was  there  for  me  in  your  life?  None,  Dickie,  none." 

Dickie  was  too  deeply  impressed  to  speak.  Frank 
went  on : 

"  There  was  a  place  waiting  for  me  elsewhere,  Dickie 
— a  place  that  no  one  could  fill  but  myself.  I  saw 
Humphreys,  and  he  advised  me,  begged  me,  to  do  as  I 
did.  But  had  I  not  found  my  brother  so  completely 
changed,  I  never  should  have  followed  the  road  Humph- 
reys pointed  out." 

"  Humphreys  disliked  uncle,"  cried  Dickie,  with  burn- 
ing cheeks;  "but  father  trusted  him." 


176  The  Colonials 

"  Father  was  good,"  answered  Frank,  "  as  are  you, 
God  bless  you,  Dickie.  You  see  no  harm  in  any  one, 
not  even  in  politics." 

The  tables  had  been  turned  on  Dickie,  and  the  instinct 
of  the  young  is  self-defence.  "  In  politics,"  he  replied, 
"  I  am  for  the  king." 

"  And  I  against  his  ministers,"  answered  Frank. 
"  Some  day,  Dickie,  we  shall  think  alike.  We  must,  or 
it  will  be  a  sad  life  for  us  both.  But  let  us  end  this, 
Dickie."  Frank  was  deeply  disappointed.  "  Is  there 
any  way  I  can  help  you?  Do  you  need  money?  Uncle 
has  none  unless  he  draws  upon  our  savings." 

"  I  have  money,"  answered  Dickie.  "  But  our  sav- 
ings? Why,  we  are  poor — in  debt!  " 

"  Well,"  said  Frank,  "  let  all  this  pass.  Try  to  believe, 
Dickie,  that  I  have  thought  of  you  in  everything  I  did. 
In  the  future  it  will  be  the  same." 

He  ended  with  a  sigh,  and  Dickie  nearly  melted.  An- 
other moment,  and  all  might  have  been  forgotten  in  an 
avowal  of  affection.  But  Ann,  drawn  by  the  sound  of 
voices,  came  to  the  library  door  and  rushed  at  her  boy 
with  a  cry.  Mr.  Ellery,  fearing  that  the  conference 
might  last  too  long,  called  from  the  stairs :  "  Dickie,  I 
want  you."  Dickie  went  away,  and  though  Frank  saw, 
he  did  not  move  to  stop  him.  The  brothers  had  not 
even  shaken  hands. 

Truly  Frank's  home-coming  was  a  disappointment. 
Ann  wept  over  him,  and  Pete  came  like  a  dog  to  his 
master;  Doctor  Warren  and  Rodman  were  happy  to  re- 
cover him,  and  Barbara  was  joyous;  Mr.  Adams  sent  for 
him;  Doctor  Church  was  gracious  to  him;  Henry  Knox 
sought  him  out  to  renew  his  acquaintance;  and  in  the 
Whig  ranks  a  place  was  made  at  once  for  Francis  Ellery. 
But  where  his  heart  was  most  deeply  set,  there  he  had 
failed.  The  word  "  brother  "  took  the  delight  out  of 


An  Armed  Truce 


177 


Frank's  heart;  he  knew  not  what  he  had  expected,  yet 
not  that.  Though  there  had  been  no  rupture  with 
Dickie,  there  was  no  confidence.  And  the  rews  that  the 
estate  was  in  debt  brought  anxiety,  or  else  added  sus- 
picion. 

12 


CHAPTER  III 

REDCOATS   AND    TORIES 

Time  did  not  draw  the  two  brothers  together,  for 
Dickie  continued  to  go  on  his  way.  He  believed  in  his 
uncle;  he  agreed  with  the  Tories;  he  saw  no  harm  in 
gaming.  Thus  he  said  daily  to  himself. 

Dickie  was  in  the  condition  of  a  cracked  jar  which, 
far  from  pretending  that  it  is  whole,  has  not  even  heard 
that  it  is  possible  for  earthenware  to  be  injured.  He 
seemed  more  of  a  Tory  than  ever,  so  that  even  Anthony 
was  satisfied  with  him.  Yet  his  confidence  in  himself 
was  shaken,  and  his  affections  could  not  be  smothered 
nor  his  perceptions  dulled. 

He  was  fond  of  Frank  in  spite  of  himself.  He  had 
admired  him  as  a  manager;  he  could  but  see  that  he 
was  a  fine  fellow.  The  deception  aside,  Frank  was  a 
brother  to  be  proud  of,  though  Dickie  would  not  show 
his  feeling  for  the  world. 

And  however  he  might  rail  against  the  Whigs,  Dick- 
ie's sense  of  humour  did  not  leave  him,  nor  his  love 
of  fair  play.  The  officers  and  Tories  who  declared  the 
Whigs  cowards  could  draw  from  Dickie  only  a  weak 
agreement.  Was  not  Doctor  Warren  a  Whig,  and  was 
there  a  coward  nerve  in  his  body?  Frank  and  Rodman 
were  not  afraid,  nor  were  the  farmers  of  the  country,  as 
Dickie  instinctively  felt.  If  the  colonials  were  but 
blusterers,  why  should  General  Gage  fortify  the  Neck, 
as  he  did  with  all  haste,  and  mount  more  cannon  on 


An  Armed  Truce 


179 


every  battery?  And  why  should  the  prominent  Tories 
of  the  colony  one  by  one  move  to  Boston  with  their 
families?  And  was  it  exactly  honest  of  the  Tories  to 
promise  the  Whigs  not  to  serve  on  the  council,  and, 
once  safe  in  Boston,  to  break  the  promise? 

Such  questions  arose  in  Dickie's  mind,  occasionally 
interrupted  by  a  chuckle.  For  when  the  Whigs  quietly 
removed  one  night  the  cannon  from  the  provincial  bat- 
tery at  Charlestown,  and  not  long  after  took  from 
under  the  very  eyes  and  ears  of  a  guard  some  cannon 
near  the  Common,  it  really  did  seem  clever.  Other 
such  things  occurred,  until  at  length  the  admiral,  to 
preserve  the  colonial  cannon  that  remained,  felt  forced 
to  spike  them.  At  that  news  Dickie,  although  he  imme- 
diately checked  himself,  laughed  aloud  and  cried:  "Is 
that  our  only  means  of  keeping  our  own?  " 

Yet  Dickie  was  in  a  most  unenviable  state  of  mind; 
for  while  his  instincts  would  not  be  denied,  his  reason 
persisted  in  betraying  itself.  He  regarded  the  Provin- 
cial Congress,  for  instance,  as  an  impudent  body,  whose 
establishment  of  a  new  system  of  militia  was  illegal, 
and  whose  election  of  three  generals  was  like  a  threat. 
Its  actions  were  silly,  because  feeble;  but  its  collection 
of  the  public  money  was  actual  rebellion.  And  the 
Boston  mechanics,  in  refusing  to  build  barracks  for 
the  troops,  acted  foolishly  and  uselessly,  because  work- 
men could  be  had  from  New  York,  and  the  only  result 
was  a  vexatious  delay.  Meanwhile,  as  the  year  ad- 
vanced, the  soldiers  shivered  in  their  tents;  the  town 
was  crowded  with  people  from  the  country;  and  the 
idle  inhabitants  still  refused  to  submit  to  the  authority 
of  the  Massachusetts  Acts. 

Dickie,  in  other  words,  repeated  what  was  told  him, 
as  the  surest  method  of  avoiding  thought.  He  was  not 
at  home  with  himself;  he  tried  to  forget  himself,  and 


i8o  The  Colonials 

went  more  and  more  into  the  lively  company  whose 
object  was  pleasure.  But  a  sulkiness  pursued  him, 
descending  upon  him  whenever  he  remembered  himself. 
At  such  times,  Dickie  was  not  happy  at  all. 

Such  a  time  came  one  day  toward  the  end  of  October, 
when  he  sat  with  his  chosen  friends  in  the  large  room  of 
the  tavern.  There  met  the  Association,  so-called  with 
many  other  longer  names,  of  officers  and  Tories,  for 
the  serious  pursuit  of  winning  each  other's  money. 

Captain  Sotheran  was  its  organiser,  president,  and 
leading  spirit.  He  held,  and  meant  to  maintain,  a  posi- 
tion in  the  town  as  the  officer  most  experienced  in  the 
science  of  fast  living.  Thoroughly  versed  in  all  the 
ways  of  London,  he  set  the  fashion  here,  and  drew 
around  him  the  youngest  of  each  regiment,  with  those 
of  the  provincials  who  yearned  for  instruction.  The 
club  already  had  a  reputation  in  the  town,  and  Sotheran, 
as  its  leader,  was  adding  lustre  to  laurels  gained  in 
London.  It  was  he  who  had  invited  Dickie  to  the 
meetings. 

That  day,  as  on  other  days,  Dickie  won  constantly 
at  cards  or  dice,  yet  he  could  not  smile.  Just  now,  when 
Doctor  Church  had  paused  to  look  in  at  the  door,  and 
the  Tories  challenged  him  to  dice  their  champion, 
Dickie  had  won  ten  guineas  in  two  throws,  and  the  doc- 
tor had  left  an  I.  O.  U.  with  Sotheran;  but  the  money 
lay  cold  in  the  lad's  pocket,  and  he  could  not  rejoice 
with  the  Tories  at  the  defeat  of  a  Whig. 

"  And  the  doctor  is  deep  in  debt,  they  say,"  cried 
Anthony  in  exultation.  "  His  country  house  is  heavily 
mortgaged." 

"  Xonsense."  grumbled  Dickie. 

1  Tis  true,"  asserted  Anthony.  "  My  father  says  so. 
Remember  how  extravagantly  he  lives  and  how  much 


An  Armed  Truce  181 

he  games.  Did  you  see  his  face  change  when  he  lost? 
Even  ten  guineas  is  of  weight  with  him." 

"  Poor  devil,  then!  "  muttered  Dickie.  He  could  not 
agree  with  his  friends  that  morning.  The  smoke  of 
pipes  was  offensive  to  his  nostrils,  the  loud  laughter 
disagreeable  to  his  ear.  And  the  man  whom  the  officers 
were  now  quizzing — he  who  had  announced  himself  as 
a  New  York  Tory  bringing  workmen  to  the  town  to 
build  the  barracks — displeased  Dickie  by  his  noisy 
words. 

"  Not  a  shilling  of  profit,  upon  my  word,"  the  fellow 
was  saying.  His  broad  red  face,  with  boldly  staring 
eyes,  coarse  hair  in  a  careless  queue,  great  bare  hands 
that  held  a  broken  riding-whip,  splashed  boots,  frayed 
hat,  and  faded  green  coat,  all  were  disagreeable  to 
Dickie.  "  And  as  I  wrote  to  the  general,  if  the  policing 
of  the  town  is  put  in  my  hands,  Boston  will  soon  be  as 
quiet  and  orderly  as  London." 

"A  grand  simile!"  cried  Tudor  laughing.  "Our 
London  mobs  would  put  a  Boston  crowd  to  shame. 
Xot  a  maimed  man,  nor  one  beaten  to  death,  have  I 
heard  of  since  I  came.  Nay,  not  a  broken  pane  of  glass. 
If  to  change  Boston  to  London  be  your  object,  friend, 
'twill  not  appeal  much  to  the  general." 

"  Excellent  wine,"  said  the  New  Yorker  unabashed. 
"  I  will  fill  again,  by  your  leave.  Gentlemen,  remember 
that  the  finishing  of  the  barracks  is  my  doing." 

"And  still  they  stand,"  commented  Sotheran,  "  mere 
frames." 

"  Nor  is  half  the  good  begun  that  I  mean  to  do  for 
the  town  of  Boston.  To  repress  the  Whigs,  root  out 
vice,  take  some  of  the  spirit  out  of  the  lower  people, 
as  I  assure  you  we  know  how  to  do  it  in  New  York; 
in  short " 

"  To  tame  the  devil,"  put  in  Tudor. 


1 82  The  Colonials 

"  Even  that.  Yes,  gentlemen,  I  am  the  man  for  all 
these.  And  if  the  king's  army  here  in  Boston  does  not 
bless  my  coming " 

Dickie  rose.  The  noise  and  smoke,  the  hilarity  in 
which  he  could  not  join,  disgusted  him.  But  the  New 
Yorker  saw  him  and  called  his  name. 

"  Hey!  'tis  young  Ellery,  upon  my  word." 

Dickie  paused,  regarding  him  with  surly  eyes.  "  How 
do  you  know  me?  "  he  asked. 

The  Tory  winked  at  the  officers.  "  My  name  is  Brush 
— Crean  Brush.  I  know  you  well.  Do  you  not  remem- 
ber me?  I  am  the  one  that  first  reported  the  drowning 
of  your  brother." 

Dickie  smiled  sourly.  "  You  saw  him  drown,  if  I 
remember?  " 

"  Truly  did  I,  and  could  not  prevent." 

"  Ho !  "  cried  Anthony. 

"  Uncle  paid  a  reward?  "  asked  Dickie. 

The  officers  burst  out  laughing.  "  Egad! "  cried 
Tudor,  "'twas  easily  earned.  Can  you  restore  it?" 

"  Looks  not  able,  from  his  dress,"  answered  Harri- 
man. 

"  What  mean  you,  gentlemen?  "  asked  Brush. 

"  My  brother  is  not  dead,"  said  Dickie. 

The  Tory's  face  was  a  study,  and  the  company  began 
to  laugh  afresh.  But  he  recovered  himself  and  bowed. 
"  My  dear  sir,  I  am  heartily  sorry  for  you."  Then  the 
laugh  turned  on  Dickie,  and  he  strode  out.  The  noise 
behind  him  rang  in  his  angry  ears. 

Home  Dickie  went,  with  his  head  held  low.  Sotheran 
had  called  him  "Dickie"  twice;  that  was  the  triumph 
of  the  morning.  But  the  remembrance  of  his  gambling 
was  not  pleasant.  The  crisp  air  contrasted  with  the 
tobacco-tainted  room,  the  quiet  of  the  streets  with  the 
empty  laughter  he  had  left  behind.  He  saw  grave 


An  Armed  Truce 


183 


Whigs  walking,  and  their  solidity  was  a  relief  from  friv- 
olousness.  These  were  impressions,  and  vague;  Dickie 
did  not  analyse  his  sensations.  But  his  spirits  were  a 
barometer  of  fair  accuracy,  just  now  recording  low 
pressure. 

He  reached  the  house.  Some  one  ran  up  the  steps 
after  him  as  he  opened  the  door.  Dickie  turned,  and 
saw  the  burly  form  of  the  New  Yorker,  Brush. 

"  Are  you  here?  "  asked  the  lad. 

"  Truly,"  he  answered  cheerfully.  "  My  old  friend 
Thomas — your  uncle,  my  boy — will  be  glad  to  see  me." 
He  pushed  past  Dickie  into  the  hall,  and  stood  looking 
about  him.  :'  The  old  house,  not  a  bit  changed.  Not 
even  a  new  carpet,"  and  he  winked  at  sullen  Dickie. 
"  Where  is  your  uncle?  Will  you  not  fetch  him?  " 

Dickie  closed  the  door  and  started  up  the  stair. 
Brush's  greatcoat  was  already  on  the  settle,  and  he 
stood  switching  his  boot  with  the  broken  whip. 

"  You  needn't  come  back  yourself,"  he  said. 


CHAPTER  IV 

AN    UNWELCOME    GUEST 

Each  age  produces  its  adventurers.  These  vary  in 
their  class  according  to  the  age,  but  the  classes  remain 
fixed. 

The  brawler,  unless  he  has  a  genius  for  self-culture, 
is  not  thriving  in  our  day.  A  hundred  years  ago  there 
was  still  room  for  him  on  the  earth,  and  he  elbowed  his 
way  almost  exactly  as  in  Ajax'  time.  For  him  of  re- 
finement the  weapon  of  terror  was  the  duelling  sword; 
in  the  lower  ranks  the  resort  was  to  the  cudgel.  Given 
a  lusty  arm  to  wield  the  latter,  a  voice  loud  to  bluster, 
with  a  countenance  of  brass,  and  the  owner  was  sure  of 
consideration  from  his  fellow-men. 

But  given  in  addition  a  keen  eye  for  the  times,  a 
knowledge  of  flattery  as  well  as  of  threats — for  while 
threats  are  but  stepping  stones,  flattery  is  a  ladder  to 
climb  by — and  the  person  thus  fortunately  qualified  was 
in  a  way  to  get  on  in  the  world. 

Crean  Brush,  Irish  by  birth,  long  a  New  York  Tory, 
had  emerged  by  this  means  from  the  lower  order  of 
men,  and  won  himself  a  position  at  the  skirts  of  the 
upper.  It  was  a  delicate  station,  with  difficulty  held, 
occasionally  cried  upon  with  the  voice  of  scandal.  Brag, 
bluster,  and  sometimes  force  were  necessary,  for  he 
was  a  sheep-dog  of  great  men,  trained  to  fetch  and 
carry,  guard,  and  even  bite.  But  as  dogs  are  occasion- 
ally discarded  by  their  masters,  so  are  human  servants. 


An  Armed  Truce  185 

His  latest  stroke  of  fortune  leaving  him  adrift,  he  came 
to  Boston  to  take  advantage  of  the  turn  in  politics,  and 
also  to  see  his  ancient  friend,  Thomas  Ellery. 

Brush  made  himself  free  of  the  Ellery  library,  and 
threw  himself  in  a  chair.  He  gazed  appreciatively 
around  the  room,  which,  with  its  faded  grandeur,  still 
meant  riches.  Tom  yet  held  this  place — so  much  the 
better.  Ellery  was  Brush's  gold  mine,  his  money  in 
the  bank.  Occasionally  he  chuckled  as  he  waited, 
and  squirting  into  the  fireplace  the  juices  of  his  quid, 
thought  cheerfully  of  a  marriage  long  ago.  And  when 
he  saw  at  the  door  a  pinched  and  haggard  face,  he 
laughed  with  self-content. 

"  Come  in,  Tom,"  he  cried.  "That's  right,  too;  shut 
the  door.  Why,  you  are  the  same  old  pair  of  tongs. 
Can  you  put  on  no  flesh  with  your  riches?  " 

A  pair  of  tongs  Ellery  was  indeed,  by  contrast  with 
the  burly  man  who  sat  and  jeered  at  him.  A  shaky  pair 
at  that,  as  he  stared  at  Brush,  panting  and  dismayed. 
Brush,  lolling  at  ease,  slapping  his  boot  with  his  whip, 
changed  presently  his  laugh  to  somethng  of  more 
meaning. 

"  A  pretty  welcome,"  he  said.  "  No  better  greeting, 
Tom,  to  your  brother-in-1 " 

"  Sh!  "cried  Ellery  in  a  fright. 

"  So  I  touch  you?"  asked  Brush  coolly.  "  But  no  one 
will  hear,  unless  your  nevvy  has  a  habit  of  listening  at 
doors.  Well,  here  I  am.  What  do  you  say  to  me?  " 

"  It  does  seem,"  whined  Ellery,  "  as  if  you  might  have 
stayed  away.  I  paid  you  to." 

"Tut,  man;  time's  up.  I  stayed  four  years  for  your 
little  twenty  pound.  Xow  the  troops  are  back,  I'm 
here  again." 

"  Not  to  stay?  "  faltered  Ellery. 

"  Certainly.    Fine  picking  from  the  army  always.    I'm 


x86  The  Colonials 

a  little  out  at  elbow,  you  see.  They  laughed  at  me  at 
the  tavern  to-day,  but  with  a  new  suit  from  you  and  a 
job  from  the  governor,  I  shall  do  well  for  a  while." 

Ellery  winced,  and  his  mind  diddled  on  the  brink  of 
precipices.  He  could  not  respond  to  the  suggestion  of 
clothes,  for  his  pocket's  sake;  and  there  were  certain 
topics  that  drew  him -with  an  unpleasant  fascination 
while  yet  his  apprehensive  heart  held  him  back.  Brush 
watched  him  with  a  broadening  smile.  "  Well,  man," 
he  demanded,  after  a  moment  of  silence;  "have  you 
no  interest  in  your  loving  friends?  " 

"What  friends?"  hesitated  Ellery. 

"  She  sends  you  her  love,"  answered  Brush. 

Ellery  sighed:  that  marriage  of  which  Brush  thought 
so  cheerfully  was  no  pleasant  recollection  for  him.  It 
was  a  union  compelled  by  the  threat  of  the  cudgel,  and 
though  smoothed  by  a  promise  of  secrecy,  it  had  caused 
him  half  his  woes  ever  since.  "  I  hope,"  he  said,  "  that 
she  is  well." 

"Oh,  do  ye?"  retorted  Brush.  "Well  now,  I'd  not 
have  thought  it.  Where  is  the  money  in  all  this  while 
that  should  keep  my  sister  in  good  health?  That's  what 
she'd  like  to  know." 

The  position,  face  to  face  with  Brush,  was  a  little  un- 
comfortable. Ellery  took  a  chair  at  the  farther  end  of 
the  table.  "  I  sent  money,"  he  answered. 

"  Did  ye?  "  asked  Brush,  leaning  forward  to  scowl 
at  him  around  the  tall  flagon.  "  A  little  came,  to  be 
sure.  Bedad,  'twas  not  enough  to  keep  her  in  clothes, 
let  alone  the  boy." 

"  How  is  the  boy?  "  asked  Ellery,  for  the  diversion's 
sake.  But  inwardly  he  groaned.  Two  hungry  mouths 
to  feed!  A  growing  boy  to  clothe! 

"  Well  enough,"  answered  Brush.  He  leaned  back 
to  grin,  then  forward  to  scowl  again.  "  Well  enough, 


An  Armed  Truce  187 

thanks  to  the  labour  of  his  loving  uncle.  I've  done  for 
that  boy,  Thomas  Ellery,  what  his  father  should  have 
done,  and  I  say  it  to  ye  squarely." 

The  discomforts  of  life  pressed  heavy  upon  Ellery. 
He  squirmed  in  his  chair,  and  locked  and  unlocked  his 
fingers  in  a  gesture  that  was  very  nearly  a  wringing  of 
his  hands.  "  I  sent  money,"  he  repeated. 

"  Ay,"  answered  Brush.  "  But  'twas  not  enough. 
And  I'm  here  this  day — old  friendship's  sake  aside — to 
enquire  what  ye  mean  to  do  for  the  wife  and  child  that 
are  dependent  on  you."  He  grinned  behind  the  flagon 
again,  with  a  hidden  humour,  leering  the  while  with  one 
eye  keenly  cocked.  There  was  a  confident  good-nature 
in  his  tone.  "  Come,  Tom,"  he  added,  "  speak  up  like 
a  man.  Ay,  and  pay  up,  too." 

So  the  process  began,  scientifically,  of  extracting 
money  from  an  Ellery.  Loud  protests  of  poverty  were 
of  no  avail.  "  What  have  you  been  doing  in  these 
years,"  sneered  Brush,  "  if  not  laying  it  by?  The  estate 
in  debt?  Good  Lord,  Tom,  tell  that  to  your  nephews." 
Sums  at  last  were  mentioned,  and  a  wretched  haggling 
followed.  Ellery,  like  an  old  hen,  flew  squawking  from 
cover  to  cover.  Brush,  like  the  farmer  amused,  batted 
him  with  right  hand  or  left  toward  the  coop.  But  his 
patience  gave  way  at  last.  "  Come,  come,"  he  said. 
"  Here  is  my  true  word.  Act  the  proper,  Tom,  or  my 
sister  herself  will  come  on  with  the  boy  and  live  in  the 
house." 

"  You  know  she  can't,"  said  Ellery,  in  this  one  detail 
safe.  "  Not  in  this  house." 

"  Well  then,  bedad,  right  here  across  the  street." 

Visions  rose  up  in  the  Ellery  mind.  Even  the  un- 
imaginative dream,  and  Thomas  Ellery  had  a  nightmare 
in  broad  daylight:  of  a  loud-voiced  slattern  hailing  him 
in  the  streets  and  proclaiming  herself  as  his  wife 


1 88  The  Colonials 

throughout  the  town;  and  of  a  whimpering  boy  with  a 
dirty  face  following  at  his  heels.  The  end  came,  and 
he  slunk  upstairs  for  his  money.  Then  Brush  waited 
complacently  for  his  payment,  but  the  scrawny  hand 
withheld  the  money,  while  Ellery  made  his  last  sus- 
picious enquiry :  "  How  do  I  know  you'll  pay  her?  How 
do  I  know  you've  ever  paid  her  what  I  gave  you?" 

"She  seems  satisfied,  doesn't  she?"  said  Brush. 
"  She  doesn't  come  and  look  you  up  herself."  The  un- 
willing coins  were  counted  out.  "  And  now,"  said 
Brush,  "  a  glass  of  wine  before  I  go." 

Ellery  went  for  Roger,  now  as  Frank's  servant  living 
in  the  house.  "  One  glassful,"  he  directed.  "  Not  the 
decanter,  mind."  He  returned  to  sigh  in  his  chair  and 
bite  his  nails.  People  never  seem  to  die;  Frank  had  re- 
turned to  life.  "  You  say  she's  well?  "  he  asked,  longing 
for  bad  news. 

Brush  leered  at  the  old  smuggler  above  him.  "  The 
best  of  health,"  he  answered. 

"  And  the  boy?  " 

"  Bright  and  lively;  a  credit  to  his  father."  Brush 
laughed  silently,  wagging  his  head  at  the  picture. 

"  Couldn't  you — "  hesitated  Ellery,  "  make  him  sup- 
port himself?  Send  him  to  sea,  for  instance." 

Brush  spat  happily.  "  I'll  think  of  it,"  he  answered, 
and  rolled  up  his  eyes  from  enjoyment.  Ellery  sighed 
again;  sailors  sometimes  drown.  "  I  wish  you  would," 
he  said. 

Then  Roger  came,  and  set  down  the  tray  hard,  staring 
at  Brush. 

"Eh,  what!"  cried  Brush,  starting  and  staring  too. 
He  rose  and  caught  the  boy  by  the  shoulder,  turning 
him  to  the  light.  "  Why,  Tom—  He  stopped,  per- 
ceiving that  Ellery  still  sat  sunken  in  his  chair.  "  Who's 
this?"  he  asked. 


An  Armed  Truce  189 

"  My  nephew's  servant,"  answered  Ellery,  sighing 
once  more. 

Terror  showed  on  the  boy's  face,  delight  on  the  man's. 
"  Well,  ye  young  brat,"  he  said.  "  My  respects  to  ye. 
Have  I  seen  ye  before? — never,  I'm  sure." 

"  Never,  sir,"  answered  Roger  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Do  I  hurt  your  shoulder?  Excuse  me."  Repressed 
harder.  "  Do  you  like  your  place?  Are  you  treated 
better  than  your  last?  You've  got  no  thought  of 
leaving?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Well " — Brush  glanced  at  inattentive  Ellery,  then 
spoke  to  the  boy  with  a  terrible  face,  but  with  voice 
smooth  as  before — "mind  ye're  good;  do  your  work 
well,  and  stay  right  here.  That's  the  advice  I  always 
give  a  boy.  I  like  your  looks;  I'll  come  and  see  you 
often.  If  you  try  to  leave  " — Ellery  was  still  not  listen- 
ing— "the  devil  himself  will  light  on  ye.  Now  go!" 
and  Roger  gladly  went. 

Brush  laughed  as  he  took  up  the  wine.  "  You  won't 
drink  with  me,  Tom?  I'd  give  you  a  toast,  but  here 
goes  alone.  '  May  a  certain  boy  we  know  of  live 
long  and  prosper!  '  He  gulped  the  wine,  and  slapped 
Ellery  on  the  shoulder.  "  Good-by;  I'll  see  ye  in  a  few 
days." 

"  You'll  keep  away?  "  begged  Ellery. 

"  Oh,  well,  for  a  while."  He  left  the  house.  Ellery 
crept  to  his  room  and  sat  there  gloomy;  Roger  cowered 
in  the  kitchen.  But  Brush  strode  cheerfully  along  the 
street,  occasionally  grinning  with  amusement. 


CHAPTER  V 

A    COMMISSION 

It  was  field-day  on  the  Common.  The  December 
sun  shone  bright,  the  surface  of  the  ground  was  soft. 
Here  and  there  in  sheltered  places  lay  snow,  but  even 
at  its  beginning  that  famous  winter  was  mild.  The 
glitter  of  arms,  the  tread  of  marching  troops,  and  at 
times  the  sound  of  military  music,  had  drawn  from  the 
town  the  flower  of  the  Tories  to  watch  the  parade.  The 
Fourth  was  off  duty;  the  officers  mingled  with  the  spec- 
tators, and  their  red  coats  made  brighter  still  the  groups 
that  sauntered  on  the  Mall.  Ladies  in  furs  and  velvet, 
gentlemen  in  broadcloth  and  satin,  promenaded,  ogled, 
and  conversed.  The  sound  of  feminine  laughter  rose  on 
the  crisp  air;  the  deeper  tones  of  men  responded.  All 
was  gayety,  save  for  the  occasional  sight  of  Whigs  in 
sober  clothes,  passing  with  unapproving  eyes  askance. 

A  knot  of  officers  had  taken  their  stand  where  all  the 
other  sightseers  must  pass  them  in  review.  They  were 
Tudor  and  Sotheran,  with  their  lieutenants,  Harriman 
and  Ormsby,  all  wearing  the  scarlet  of  the  Fourth,  and 
members  of  the  Association  which  already  had  such  a 
fashionable  reputation.  The  four  marked  the  costumes 
critically,  and  the  least  ambitious  aspirant  for  popular 
favour  trembled  as  she  passed  their  group. 

But  Alice,  as  she  approached,  they  regarded  with  no 
trace  of  disapproval.  She  walked  between  Frank  and 
Barbara,  and  bowed  serenely  as  she  passed. 


An  Armed  Truce 


191 


"  By  Gad!  "  said  Harriman,  "  were  that  fellow  in  our 
uniform,  none  but  you,  Sotheran,  were  handsomer  than 
he.  And  the  pretty  little  Whig — who  is  she?  George, 
desert  us  not." 

But  Tudor  slipped  away  to  Barbara's  side.  "  A  mag- 
net," finished  Harriman.  "  And  do  you  stay  here, 
Henry?" 

They  glanced  at  Sotheran  furtively.  He  was  calm, 
but  a  dull  red  had  crept  into  his  cheeks.  He  answered: 
"  Yes,  I  stay,"  and  his  voice  was  steady,  but  his  eyes 
gleamed.  It  was  dangerous  to  meet  his  glance;  they 
looked  away. 

Then  Dickie  came  with  Anthony,  and  they  hailed 
him.  Why  had  Ellery  not  been  to  the  Association  of 
late?  Dickie  explained,  with  the  boyish  directness 
which  was  his  charm,  that  he  had  in  truth  been  tired  of 
play,  and  besides,  Doctor  Church  had  been  asking  him 
to  cards. 

"  So  that  is  why,"  said  Sotheran,  "  the  doctor  has  not 
come  for  his  revenge  of  me." 

"  He  thought  he  had  an  innocent  in  Ellery,"  cried 
Harriman.  "  And  who  won?  " 

Dickie  laughed  and  tapped  his  pocket.  The  others 
looked  at  each  other  with  appreciative  smiles.  Then 
Dickie  excused  himself,  for  the  governor  was  coming. 

"  Tommy's  worried,"  whispered  Harriman. 

"  Tommy  "  seemed  worried  indeed,  as  he  approached 
them  with  peevish  face.  Responsibilities  greater  than 
his  skill,  perplexities  than  his  tact,  oppressed  the  gov- 
ernor. His  usually  complacent  brow  was  clouded,  and 
his  fussy  strut  had  regained,  in  his  abstraction,  some- 
thing of  naturalness.  He  was  talking  querulously  with 
his  companion,  Colonel  Fenton,  and  they  caught  as  he 
came  near  a  sentence  of  complaint:  "Stiff-necked  be- 
yond comparison!" 


192  The  Colonials 

"  The  Whigs,"  muttered  Ormsby. 

The  governor,  on  seeing  the  group  of  officers,  stopped 
at  a  few  paces  and  regarded  them.  He  replied  to  their 
salutes,  but  still  spoke  to  his  companion.  "  And  this 
is  what  I  have  to  bear  with  on  the  other  hand." 

A  smile  struggled  faintly  at  the  corners  of  Colonel 
Fenton's  mouth,  but  the  officer  managed  to  regard 
the  young  men  gravely.  The  general  stepped  closer  to 
them,  and  singling  Captain  Sotheran,  held  up  a  finger. 
"  It  is  you,  sir,  I  understand,  that  are  the  head  of  this 
Association  for  high  play." 

The  others  dropped  their  eyes;  Sotheran,  knowing 
his  chief's  fondness  for  respect,  saluted  again  like  a 
corporal,  and  responded:  "  Our  play  is  not  very  high, 
sir." 

"  Why,  sir,"  responded  the  general  testily,  "  I  hear 
that  many  officers  are  deep  in  debt,  counting  upon  re- 
mittances that  have  not  arrived.  And  respectable  gentle- 
men among  our  party,  sir,  complain  that  their  sons  are 
learning  extravagant  habits.  I  am  not  at  all  pleased — 
more,  I  am  displeased.  I  expect  that  this  hint  will  be 
enough,  sir.  Good  morning."  And  with  the  colonel 
following,  he  walked  away. 

The  flush  renewed  itself  on  Sotheran's  face,  and  he 
tapped  with  his  foot  as  he  watched  them  go.  The 
others,  looking  at  him,  saw  this  was  no  time  for  pleas- 
antries. But  the  captain  presently  recovered  his  man- 
ner and  turned  to  his  friends. 

"  Fidgety  old  fellow,"  he  remarked  lazily.  ''  A  trifle 
upset  this  morning;  the  Whigs  are  on  his  digestion. 
But  he'll  forget." 

"  You  won't  go  on,  Henry,  surely?  "  asked  Ormsby. 

''  This  is  not  a  campaign,"  answered  Sotheran.  "  He 
won't  enforce  it.  It's  all  because  his  lady  wants  us  at 
her  assemblies." 


An  Armed  Truce  193 

"Ha,  ha!"  laughed  Harriman.  "Six-penny  loo! 
Middle-aged  ladies  with  false  teeth.  A  sip  of  currant 
wine  when  we  rise  from  table.  Departure  strictly  at 
midnight.  Thanks!" 

"  And  you're  right,  Henry,"  said  Ormsby.  "  Tommy 
will  change  his  mind.  He's  changed  his  mind  on  every 
subject  so  far.  But  here's  Colonel  Fenton  returning. 
Tommy's  gone  on.  Let's  stroll." 

"  Not  I,"  replied  Sotheran;  and  so  they  waited.  The 
colonel  stopped  when  he  reached  them.  "  May  I  ask 
you  to  attend  me  to  the  Province  House?"  he  asked 
of  Sotheran.  The  others,  much  interested,  watched  the 
two  walk  away. 

"  Another  wigging,"  said  Harriman.  "  This  is  seri- 
ous. By  Jove!  if  we  can't  do  as  we  like  in  this  stupid 
place,  it's  hard." 

But  the  general,  true  to  himself,  had  changed  his 
mind  again,  and  Colonel  Fenton  was  leading  the  con- 
versation away  from  the  reproof.  ''  The  general  was 
hasty,"  he  said.  "  I  trust  you  were  not  put  out." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  the  captain  composedly.  His  com- 
panion, glancing  at  him  keenly,  looked  appreciative. 

"  I  hope,"  said  he,  "  that  you  are  willing  to  advance 
yourself." 

"  I  hope  so." 

"  The  general  was  troubled,"  went  on  Colonel  Fen- 
ton, "  by  the  unbearable  colonials.  Tis  a  peculiar  situ- 
ation here;  the  general  is  often  at  a  loss.  He  needs 
some  one  now  for  a  delicate  mission.  There  is  an  op- 
portunity to  forward  one's  own  interest  while  doing 
the  king  a  service." 

"  Any  one  should  be  very  glad,"  was  the  reply  with- 
out eagerness,  "  to  do  the  king  a  service." 

The  colonel  smiled  and  appeared  to  change  the  sub- 
ject. "  The  weather  is  charming,"  he  said.  "  How 
13 


194  The  Colonials 

pleasant  this  town  would  be  were  it  not  for  the  political 
disturbances.  The  obstinacy  and  secrecy  of  these  Whig 
leaders  is  remarkable.  I  went  to  Mr.  Samuel  Adams 
recently  with  certain  propositions.  I  hinted  that  he 
might  wish  to  make  peace  with  the  king.  Have  you 
ever  had  occasion  to  note  the  religious  language  that 
some  of  these  fellows  assume?  He  rose  up  very  grandly. 
'  Sir,'  he  said,  '  I  have  long  since  made  my  peace  with 
the  King  of  kings.'  And  he  showed  me  to  the  door." 

"No?"  said  the  captain,  mildly  surprised. 

"  It  is  a  fact,"  averred  the  colonel.  "  Do  you  know, 
his  assumption  of  dignity  imposed  upon  me  for  the  mo- 
ment. The  general  was  much  disappointed.  He  would 
give  a  great  deal  for  information  of  Whig  doings." 

"  Try  Warren,"  suggested  Sotheran. 

The  colonel  shook  his  head.  "  Out  of  the  question. 
But  just  now  sure  word  was  brought  to  the  general 
that  it  might  be  possible  with  another  of  their  leaders." 

"  Indeed?  "  murmured  the  captain. 

"  Warren,"  said  the  colonel  with  a  subtle  emphasis, 
"  is  not  the  only  Whig  physician  in  the  town." 

"  Very  true,"  answered  Sotheran.  The  colonel  stead- 
ily regarding  him,  he  was  forced  to  meet  his  eye. 

"  You  have  met  one  other?  "  asked  the  colonel. 

"  I  have,"  was  the  reply.  A  flash  of  intelligence 
passed  between  them. 

"  If  the  general,"  said  Colonel  Fenton,  "  is  a  little 
awkward  in  opening  the  subject,  perhaps  you  will  be 
able  to  assist  him."  They  spoke  on  other  things  until 
they  reached  the  general's  room  in  the  Province  House. 

The  colonel  left  Sotheran  with  the  general.  General 
Gage,  after  a  nervous  greeting,  walked  up  and  down  in 
uncertainty;  and  the  captain,  eyeing  his  nails,  the  orna- 
ments, the  portraits  on  the  walls,  waited  with  patience. 
"Captain  Sotheran,"  hesitated  the  governor  at  last; 


An  Armed  Truce  195 

"  I  wish  to  speak  with  you  upon  the — er — public  situa- 
tion. My  lack  of  information — er — particularly  dis- 
tresses me.  Colonel  Fenton  has  kindly  endeavoured  to 
help  me.  But  up  to  the  present — there  is  nothing." 

"  Perhaps  some  one  of  less  prominence,"  suggested 
the  captain,  "  of  lower  rank,  sir,  might  have  better 
opportunity." 

"  But  where?"  enquired  the  general  quickly,  a  gleam 
of  shrewdness  on  his  heavy  face.  "  Can  you  suggest?  " 

"  If  the  general  will  outline  the  nature  of  the  infor- 
mation he  requires,  perhaps  I  could  find  a  way." 

"  Sit  down,"  said  the  general  promptly. 

They  sat  on  the  same  sofa,  and  with  the  precaution 
of  a  stage  whisper  the  general  began  to  unfold  com- 
plaints. "  My  position  is  a  hard  one,"  he  said.  "  I  am 
instructed  to  check  the  Whigs,  to  prevent  meetings, 
and  gather  information  against  the  leaders.  But  they 
check  me;  they  carry  off  their  stores  from  under  the 
noses  of  my  guards.  By  adjournment,  they  have  kept 
their  town  meeting  since  last  May.  And  I  can  learn 
nothing!  The  powers  they  possess  of  keeping  secrets! 
I  have  no  evidence  in  my  hands  sufficient  to  incriminate 
any  one.  All  we  need  is  a  few  facts — merely  enough 
to  arrest  the  leaders — then  the  opposition  would  cease. 
The  fellows  would  be  punished  and  the  king  would 
reward.  The  king,"  he  repeated,  "  would  reward." 

Captain  Sotheran  was  smoothing  his  ruffles  placidly. 

"  But,"  the  general  went  on  again,  "  we  must  learn 
from  one  in  their  confidence.  No  mere  follower,  you 
understand.  I  have  sounded  the  leaders;  there  is 
nothing  to  be  done  with  most  of  them.  Yet  one  re- 
mains " — the  general  fidgeted — "  whom  you — whom 
Colonel  Fenton  says  you  know." 

The  captain  studied  his  cuffs  and  appeared  to  medi- 


196  The  Colonials 

tate.  "  This  morning,"  he  reflected  aloud,  "  I  was  for- 
bidden to  play  high." 

"  We  will  forget  that,"  said  the  general  quickly. 

"  There  is  a  Whig,"  went  on  Sotheran,  intent  on  his 
gold  braid,  "  who  can  be  approached  on  the  side  of 
play.  But — "  he  paused. 

"  You  have  debts,"  suggested  the  general,  after 
waiting. 

Sotheran  missed  Colonel  Fenton's  delicate  touch. 
"  This  person  of  whom  you  speak,"  he  said,  "  may  also 
have  debts." 

"  He  has !  "  the  general  replied  eagerly.  "  That  is 
where  we  are  strong.  His  country  house  is  mortgaged; 
his  personal  debts  are  large;  his  tastes  are  extravagant. 
I  have  just  learned  in  a  letter  from  Hutchinson  that  he 
was  once  before  on  the  point  of  giving  information. 
Do  not  you  think  it  can  be  done?  " 

"  There  is  one  unfortunate  essential,"  remarked  the 
captain.  "  Debts  require — "  He  checked  at  the  word. 

"  There  is  plenty  of  money  for  such  a  purpose,"  said 
the  general,  not  hesitating  at  all.  "  Your  debts  and  his, 
both  shall  be  paid.  If  you  can  ascertain  from  him  the 
amount,  he  can  be  relieved  at  once." 

The  captain  saw  that  circumlocution  was  thrown 
away.  "  Pardon  me,"  he  said;  "  they  should  not  all  be 
paid.  Little  by  little;  and  if  in  the  meanwhile  he  makes 
more " 

"  So  much  the  better!  "  interrupted  the  general  in  de- 
light. "  I  had  not  thought  of  that.  My  dear  Captain 
Sotheran,  you  are  just  the  man.  I  put  the  matter  in 
your  hands.  How  large  shall  I  make  the  order?  " 

He  rose  and  went  to  his  desk.  The  captain  once  more 
regarded  a  portrait.  "  You  understand  that  it  cannot 
be  done  in  a  day?  " 

"  Of  course.     Of  course,"  replied  Gage. 


An  Armed  Truce  197 

"  I  doubt  if  he  will  care  to  appear  in  court  to  give 
evidence." 

"Letters!"  cried  the  general.  "Something  over 
their  signatures." 

"  His  price  will  be  high." 

:<  The  king  will  pay.  How  much?"  The  general 
poised  the  pen. 

"  Give  me,"  said  the  captain  with  decision,  "  an  in- 
definite order.  I  cannot  be  sure  how  much  I  shall  need. 
It  will  save  much  running  to  you." 

"  Very  well,"  agreed  the  general  after  a  pause,  and 
wrote. 

When,  after  taking  his  leave,  Captain  Sotheran  stood 
on  the  steps  of  the  Province  House,  the  order  buttoned 
in  his  pocket,  for  the  first  time  in  years  he  felt  excited. 
Not  at  the  idea  that  he  could  do  the  king  a  service;  not, 
to  do  him  justice,  at  the  thought  that  his  debts  were 
to  be  paid.  Debts  pressed  lightly  on  him  till  the  bailiff 
threatened.  His  form  was  more  erect,  his  pulse  was 
quicker,  the  veil  of  indifference  was  gone  from  his  eyes 
and  they  shone,  because  he  felt  that  he  held  the  key  to 
all  his  most  secret  desires,  and  to  his  revenge. 


CHAPTER  VI 

A    MESS    OF    POTTAGE 

A  human  heart  as  deep  and  as  dark  as  a  well,  con- 
taining God  alone  knew  what  passions;  a  form  superb, 
a  manner  lofty,  a  face  as  composed  as  a  Van  Dyck  por- 
trait, an  eye  unresponsive  as  glass;  finally,  a  mind  of  vast 
and  sluggish  power,  seldom  stirred :  such  were  the  char- 
acteristics of  Captain  Henry  Sotheran. 

So  satisfied  was  he  with  his  life  that  to  move  in  high 
society,  and  to  have  money  for  his  pleasures,  were  al- 
most enough  for  him.  One  other  thing,  however,  the 
nature  in  him  craved:  respect,  that  is,  deepened  by  a 
suggestion  of  mystery  and  dread.  By  his  exploits  with 
duelling  sword  or  pistol  he  gained  the  glamour  he  de- 
sired; by  aloofness  he  deepened  the  spell.  Men  were 
deferential  to  him,  cautious  of  expression,  willing  to 
contend  for  his  good-will.  Women  were  fascinated  by 
his  manner,  his  few  words,  and  the  respect  that  was 
paid  him. 

Thus  he  compassed  his  small  ambition.  He  might 
go  or  come,  speak  or  be  silent,  as  he  pleased.  Mostly 
he  preferred  to  be  that  contradiction,  the  haughty  fop; 
was  fastidious  in  dress  and  word  and  company,  com- 
manded, lorded,  and  was  obeyed. 

There  are  episodes  in  our  lives  we  would  gladly  forget 
— deeds,  words,  even  thoughts.  Time  does  not  weaken 
the  memory  of  them;  recollections  persist  in  returning, 
bringing  to  the  good  man  humiliation,  to  the  bad  or 


An  Armed  Truce  199 

weak,  anger.  One  such  there  was  in  Captain  Sotheran's 
life — one  complete  failure,  his  blackest  act,  foiled  by 
Frank  Ellery.  The  thought  of  it  roused  not  a  blush, 
but  fury.  He  had  no  care  of  the  stain  of  it,  but  he 
fumed  that  he  had  been  checked  and  wounded  by  a 
creature  he  despised.  Xo  one  before  had  so  much  as 
scratched  him;  no  one  had  even  looked  into  his  eyes 
with  contempt;  he  had  never  inspired  anything  but 
alarm.  For  these  things  he  hated  the  woodsman,  and 
for  this  in  addition:  that  instant  of  fear  before  the 
sword  cut  him.  That  was  almost  the  worst  of  it  all; 
he  could  not  forget  it;  it  recurred  in  his  dreams — an 
awful  moment,  with  a  white,  indefinite  face  threatening, 
an  impending  stroke,  and  in  his  own  heart  horror.  No 
memory  of  pleasure  could  obliterate  that  shame;  no 
woman  seduced,  no  opponent  whom  his  sword  had 
pierced.  As  Tudor  loved,  so  Sotheran  hated  the 
memory  of  the  dead. 

Then  when  Frank  started  up,  that  instant  of  fright 
was  renewed — a  double  degradation.  Immediate  re- 
taliation was  denied;  a  slower  course  began,  in  which 
Frank  stood  in  his  way  like  a  wall.  Into  Sotheran's 
mind,  first  stung  by  fear,  then  deeply  spurred  by  opposi- 
tion, came  like  brain-flashes  to  an  angry  eagle  consider- 
ations for  revenge.  Viewing  all  things  from  his  mental 
height;  constructing  by  mere  effort  of  memory  the  once 
unheeded  perspective  of  circumstance ;  comprehending 
solely  by  desire,  as  by  inspiration,  the  course  of  political 
events ;  he  had  waited  for  a  while  thinking,  regarding, 
pausing,  till  the  moment  offered.  Incidentally,  by  a 
policy  that  attracted  him  as  much  as  his  bold  suit  to 
Alice,  he  took  advantage  of  the  division  between  the 
brothers  and  began  to  conciliate  Dickie.  But  still  he 
waited,  until  at  the  last  something  wonderful  happened. 

The  moment  on  the  Common  when  he  saw  Frank 


2OO  The  Colonials 

pass  by  with  Alice,  when  he  knew  his  friends  to  be 
studying  him  curiously,  had  been  bitter.  But  there 
was  more  than  the  shame  of  being  openly  supplanted, 
more  than  mere  personal  rebuff,  for  then  he  realised 
how  much  he  cared.  At  the  sight  of  Alice,  rosy  and 
pure,  somewhere  within  him  a  throbbing  began,  the 
sudden  pulsing  of  a  new  force — his  heart.  From  that 
instant,  up  to  the  terrible  end  of  his  life,  he  was  ruled 
by  a  new  passion — love. 

Never  before  had  his  heart  swayed  him  at  all.  All 
his  impulses,  all  his  desires,  had  hitherto  come  either 
from  his  brain  or  from  mere  nerve  centres,  seats  of 
animal  craving.  Conceive  a  man  who  had  never  been 
exhilarated  in  his  life,  either  by  wine  or  woman;  who 
indulged  in  these  solely  from  a  cool  appreciation  of  their 
excellence.  He  was  controlled  by  his  mind.  No  im- 
pulse had  ever  yet  led  him  beyond  his  plans;  nor  had 
pity  for  an  adversary  or  affection  for  a  friend  in  any 
degree  changed  his  course  of  action.  Neither  had 
Alice  at  first  brought  him  out  of  himself.  Intention  to 
conquer  her  and  to  crush  Frank  were  his  strongest  feel- 
ings; dangerous  because  aided  by  self-possession,  pur- 
sued in  cold  blood. 

But  then  his  heart  began  to  beat  fast,  and  love  leaped 
into  being.  Real  love,  tortured,  misshapen,  perverted, 
an  awful  passion,  without  warning  seized  and  ruled 
him.  It  added  itself  to  the  brain's  powers;  it  quickened 
and  stimulated  them;  it  breathed  malevolence  and  de- 
manded action;  it  instantly  doubled  his  forces.  The 
giant  in  him  awoke,  glaring  about  for  a  weapon.  Acci- 
dent, in  the  shape  of  General  Gage  with  his  commission 
of  corruption,  put  the  weapon  within  reach.  Sotheran 
seized  it  and  began  at  once  upon  his  course. 

That  day,  at  noon,  in  one  of  those  taverns  whose  cau- 
tious proprietors  kept  the  dividing  line  between  Whig 


Aii  Armed  Truce  201 

and  Tory,  Doctor  Church  had  sat  down  to  his  dinner. 
He  was  away  from  his  usual  haunts;  he  had  a  desire  to 
be  alone,  to  consider  his  liabilities  and  appraise  his 
assets.  He  ordered  "  anything,"  he  ate  indifferently, 
but  he  drank  with  judgment,  and  made  note  that  good 
wine  was  to  be  had  even  in  that  place. 

He  looked  up  from  his  brooding  when  a  tall  figure 
loomed  above  him,  the  glint  of  scarlet  and  brass  from 
which  first  attracted  his  eyes.  The  face,  a  long  and 
strong  one,  was  familiar.  He  heard  himself  addressed, 
and  searching  his  memory  for  their  last  meeting,  re- 
called his  brief  visit  to  the  Association.  "  Oh,  yes,"  he 
said;  "you  are  Captain  Sotheran." 

"  Landlord,"  said  the  captain,  "  a  bottle  of  the  doc- 
tor's wine.  'Tis  sure  to  be  your  best.  Nay,  no  food;  I 
have  dined.  Doctor,"  he  went  on,  as  the  landlord  de- 
parted, "  you  have  not  sought  me,  as  I  hoped." 

•"  In  truth,"  said  the  doctor,  "I  had  forgot.  I  am  so 
"busy,  d'ye  know,  I'm  sometimes  absent-minded.  Sit 
down,  pray,  Captain." 

It  was  a  delicate  assumption  of  ease  with  which  the 
captain  seated  himself.  The  weary  doctor  did  not  see 
the  keen  looks  which  shot  at  him,  noting  his  careless 
dress,  his  hair  disturbed  as  if  by  hands  in  thought,  and 
the  circles  at  his  eyes.  "  This  man  is  mine,"  the  captain 
thought. 

Aloud  he  said:  "  I  never  supposed  that  you  were  al- 
3o*ved  to  be  alone.  Where  is  the  following  of  Whigs? 
You  have  escaped  them?  " 

"  Ay,"  said  the  doctor,  forcing  himself  to  attention. 
"  One  must  have  privacy." 

"  That  is  well  for  me,"  answered  the  captain,  "  be- 
cause— "  and  he  tapped  his  pocket. 

"There  was  an  I.  O.  U.,  was  there  not?"  asked  the 


2O2  The  Colonials 

doctor.  To  himself  he  thought :  "  Were  it  the  only 
one!  " 

"  A  little  one,"  said  the  captain.  "  A  few  minutes 
only  are  enough  to  make  it  change  hands." 

"  My  dear  Captain,"  answered  the  doctor,  "  I  am  a 
careless  man,  and  have  not  so  much  money  by  me." 

"  You  mistake  me,"  returned  the  officer.  "  I  am  not 
the  man  to  press  for  payment.  I  merely  thought  there 
must  be  cards  here." 

"  Oh!  "  said  the  doctor.  A  smile  came  and  his  eyes 
twinkled.  "  Forgive  me  if  I  misunderstood.  Land- 
lord! "  he  cried,  then  turned  to  the  captain  again.  "  I 
have  not  held  a  hand  for  two  days.  Landlord,  a  pack 
of  cards!" 

Then  he  paused.  "  But  unless  you  lend,"  he  said,  "  or 
credit  me,  I  cannot  meet  you.  Captain,  let  me  remind 
you  of  an  episode  in  history.  When  the  Dutch  fought 
the  English,  a  century  ago,  in  a  certain  great  fight  upon 
the  sea,  the  powder  of  our  countrymen  failed.  The 
admiral  sent  to  the  Dutch  a  message  that  he  would 
prove  himself  not  beaten  if  only  he  might  buy  more 
powder.  The  Dutch  replied — can  you  guess?  " 

The  captain  drew  his  purse  from  his  pocket.  "  That 
a  fair  fight  to  a  finish  is  worth  two  victories  gained  by 
other  means.  Such  at  least  would  any  soldier  say."  He 
began  to  laugh  and  extended  the  purse. 

"  Veertig  pond"  cried  the  doctor;  "can  you  lend  so 
much?  Eh,  but  the  purse  is  heavy!  " 

'  There  are  a  hundred  guineas,"  said  the  captain. 

"  Divide  them  evenly,"  challenged  Church.  "  If  at 
the  end  of  the  half  hour  I  have  not  them  all,  and  the 
I.  O.  U.  as  well,  then  the  devil  is  with  you. — And  against 
me,"  the  doctor  added  to  himself.  The  contemplation 
was  not  pleasant. 

Nor  was  it  pleasant  to  watch,  as  the  half  hour  passed, 


An  Armed  Truce  203 

the  gradual  reassembling  of  the  coins  at  the  captain's 
side.  Little  gain  by  little  gain,  Sotheran  won;  occa- 
sional reverses  did  not  change  the  course  of  the  game, 
but  merely  delayed  the  end.  Sotheran  was  a  masterful 
player;  the  doctor  was  hasty  and  venturesome.  These 
facts,  more  than  the  captain's  luck,  caused  him  to  win. 
Finally  the  doctor  threw  himself  back  in  his  chair. 
"  There!  "  he  said. 

He  had  nothing  left.  This  last  chance  of  aid  had 
slipped  away  like  the  others,  leaving  him  once  more 
worse  off  than  before.  Fifty  guineas  deeper  in  debt; 
creditors  pressing  more  every  day;  the  end  in  sight — 
it  was  a  hard  physic  to  take,  wormwood  for  a  cureless 
ill.  He  looked  longingly  at  the  coins  in  the  table,  a 
golden  heap,  which  Sotheran  pushed  out  into  the  centre 
and  then  daintily  stirred  with  his  finger — a  clinking, 
shining,  tempting  heap. 

"Why  do  you  do  that?"  Doctor  Church  demanded 
querulously. 

The  captain  did  not  look  up  from  his  pastime.  "  Are 
they  not  fine?"  he  asked.  "Is  there  anything  finer  in 
this  world?  "  He  took  a  dozen  of  the  coins  and  let 
them  slip  back  slowly  through  his  fingers. 

The  doctor  made  no  answer. 

"  So  yellow,"  murmured  the  captain;  "  so  bright  and 
clean!  What  would  not  a  man  give  for  all  of  these?" 

A  groan  forced  itself  from  the  doctor's  breast. 
"  More  than  you  know." 

Sotheran  looked  up  quickly.  "  Eh,  my  dear  Doctor 
Church,  you  don't  mean  to  say  that  the  trifling  loss  is 
anything  to  you?"  The  other's  haggard  face  and  long- 
ing eyes  were  a  delight ;  but  the  captain's  tone  expressed 
depths  of  comprehension  and  sympathy. 

The  doctor  withdrew  his  eyes  unwillingly  from  the 
money.  "Trifling  loss!"  he  repeated.  He  felt  the 


204  The  Colonials   ' 

impulse  to  confide,  to  unlock  his  breast.  "  Sir,  if  you 
only  knew — "  He  checked  himself  and  gestured  eagerly 
toward  the  money.  "  Could  you  but  lend  me  that! "  he 
cried. 

"  I  cannot  lend  it,"  answered  the  captain. 

The  doctor  drew  himself  together,  passing  a  hand 
across  his  face.  "  Excuse  me,"  he  said  confusedly,  but 
abruptly  added  with  irritation :  "  Then  put  the  money 
out  of  my  sight." 

"  Let  it  stay,"  answered  the  Englishman  smoothly. 
"  Let  it  stay  a  moment."  He  began  again  to  stir  the 
coins  with  his  finger,  looking  in  the  American's  face. 
"  My  dear  sir,  I  am  very  sorry." 

"  Tis  nothing,"  replied  the  doctor  with  an  effort. 
"  Only  a  tradesman  who  demands  to  be  paid  to-morrow. 
Never  mind." 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  lend,"  said  the  captain.  ''  But 
unfortunately — .  However,  I  can  find  one  to  do  so,  if 
you  desire." 

"  Never  mind,"  repeated  the  doctor. 

"  He  would  lend  it,"  continued  the  captain  slowly, 
the  chink  of  the  coins  audible  between  his  words.  "  He 
might  even — give  it." 

"  Give  it?"  demanded  the  other. 

The  captain  met  his  eye.  "  He  is  a  good  friend  to 
all  that  love  him,"  he  said,  "  and  one  whom  all  should 
love.  He  wishes  to  be  friends  with  all  Bostonians;  will 
show  favour  to  those  who  deserve  it.  Yes,  he  will  give 
this  very  money — on  conditions." 

The  pause  that  followed  was  terrible.  The  captain 
saw  a  flush  come  out  on  the  other's  face;  the  doctor 
put  both  hands  on  the  table  as  if  to  rise.  Then  he  sank 
down,  looked  the  officer  full  in  the  face,  and  with  mouth 
half  open  gazed  at  him  startled.  For  some  seconds  he 
looked,  then  dropped  his  head  on  his  breast. 


An  Armed  Truce  205 

"  On  conditions,"  repeated  the  captain  softly.  "  You 
understand?  " 

The  doctor  moved  his  head  for  a  Yes,  but  said 
nothing. 

Then  the  captain  waited  in  suspense.  He  had  come 
quickly  to  his  point,  perhaps  too  quickly.  It  depended 
now  on  the  doctor's  circumstances:  how  closely  he  was 
pressed,  and  for  what  sums.  He  drew  from  his  pocket 
another  heavy  purse,  and  poured  its  contents  upon 
the  heap  already  on  the  table.  At  the  sound  the  doctor 
looked  up,  and  the  captain  read  his  countenance. 

The  landlord  was  approaching.  ;'  There,  Doctor," 
said  the  captain  briskly,  "  is  what  I  owe.  You  have 
won  it  all  except  the  I.  O.  U.,  which  we  will  play  for  as 
often  as  you  wish." 

"  Anything  more,  gentlemen?  "  asked  the  landlord. 

"  Nothing,"  replied  the  captain.  "  I  hope  to  be  here 
again — will  you  charge  my  bottle  to  me?  Captain 
Sotheran  of  the  Fourth."  The  landlord  withdrew. 

The  doctor  had  not  looked  up.  The  captain  took  his 
hat  and  stood  for  a  moment  close  to  him.  "  Shall  we 
meet  again  in  a  week?  "  he  asked. 

"  Tell  me,"  required  the  doctor  hoarsely,  "  exactly 
whom  you  mean." 

"  Adams,  Hancock,  Warren.  These  in  any  case. 
Whomever  else  you  can.  But  certain  evidence,  you 
understand.  Their  own  writing." 

"  Yes,"  whispered  the  doctor. 

Sotheran  bent  to  him.  "  Listen,"  he  said;  and  there 
was  a  ring,  not  of  gold,  but  of  steel,  in  his  voice.  '  This 
also.  There  is  a  fellow,  Francis  Ellery,  lately  come  to 
life.  You  know  him?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  He  must  be  included  also." 

"  Verv  well." 


206  The  Colonials 

"  Good  day,  then,"  said  the  captain  brightly,  for  any 
listening  ear.  "  We  shall  meet  here  again,  shall  we 
not?  "  He  went  to  the  door,  but  glanced  back  as  he 
closed  it.  The  doctor  was  extending  his  hand  to  the 
money  on  the  table. 


CHAPTER  VII 

A    NEW   ALLIANCE 

To  carry  a  jaunty  front;  to  live  as  well  as  the  best  in 
the  town;  and  to  be,  among  his  political  associates,  ad- 
mired and  trusted,  had  long  been  the  aims  of  Dr. 
Benjamin  Church.  The  first  was  natural  to  him;  the 
last  he  had  won  by  his  address  and  tact;  but  the  second 
he  had  bought  dear. 

Equipped  with  the  best  education  the  colony  could 
afford,  his  training  finished  in  London  hospitals,  the 
doctor  stood  high  in  his  profession.  But  with  a  desire 
for  expression,  a  clever  pen,  and  a  talent  for  verse,  he 
was  not  the  man  to  keep  himself  from  the  public  eye. 
Elegies  upon  distinguished  men,  occasional  light  poetry, 
and  some  partisan  writings,  brought  him  into  promi- 
nence. He  early  saw  the  popular  side,  and  willingly 
embraced  it.  For  the  sake  of  his  professional  standing 
(since  a  Whig  would  as  soon  employ  a  Tory  lawyer  as  a 
Tory  doctor),  it  was  wise  to  go  with  the  majority,  and 
the  admiration  of  the  many  was  dearer  to  Church's  heart 
than  the  friendship  of  the  few.  He  won  the  fourth  place 
in  public  esteem;  the  members  of  the  caucuses  gave  oath 
at  each  meeting  to  reveal  their  deliberations  to  none  but 
Adams,  Warren,  Hancock,  and  Church.  Able  to  steer 
with  the  wind,  for  a  number  of  years  he  enjoyed  himself 
to  his  heart's  content. 

But  sailing  even  on  a  summer  sea  is  not  always 
smooth,  and  the  winter  of  colonial  politics  was  ap- 


208  The  Colonials 

preaching.  The  doctor  found  himself  in  troubled 
waters,  with  contrary  winds.  The  coming  of  the  troops 
had  frightened  him;  he  feared  the  anger  of  the  king. 
And  Church's  extravagant  life  had  led  him  deep  into 
debt.  Gaming,  his  favourite  amusement,  almost  a  pas- 
sion, turned  suddenly  against  him.  He  trusted  to  it  to 
bring  him  out  of  debt;  it  failed,  and  thrust  him  deeper. 
The  time  came  when  he  was  very  closely  pressed. 
When  he  sat  down  in  the  tavern  to  consider  his  assets, 
he  found  himself  constantly  thinking  that  his  most  valu- 
able possessions  were  his  secrets. 

Captain  Sotherati  came  to  him  at  the  right  moment. 
Fortune  acted  as  with  set  purpose;  the  loss  at  cards 
was  the  last  straw.  The  doctor  sold  himself  in  the 
way  that  pleased  him  most;  with  the  one  hand  he 
clung  to  the  life  that  was  dear  to  him,  with  the  other 
he  betrayed  it.  His  stunted,  worn-out  conscience  was 
no  bar.  But  now  that  he  had  surrendered  himself,  the 
dread  of  discovery — not  his  own  shame,  but  public  dis- 
grace— was  unbearable.  He  shrank  at  the  thought  of 
the  popular  disdain;  he  used  every  endeavour  to  shield 
himself.  His  hope  was  to  earn  his  pay  while  saving  his 
reputation — a  delicate,  juggling  task,  to  contemplate 
which  drove  him  to  the  bottle  or  the  gaming  table— or 
both  together. 

Therefore,  it  was  not  strange  that  at  the  end  of  a 
week  he  was  in  search  of  Captain  Sotheran.  He  met 
him  walking  in  the  street  alone,  and  joined  him  with 
the  outward  flourishes  and  gestures  from  which  any 
looker-on  could  see  their  acquaintance  was  merely  cere- 
monious. But  between  the  words  of  formal  greeting 
he  thrust  in  other  sentences:  "I  have  something  for 
you.  And  I  need  money.  This  place  is  too  public; 
will  you  go  with  me  to  the  tavern?  " 

So  they  went  together,  but  the  doctor's  jauntiness 


An  Armed  Truce  209 

was  less  than  usual.  He  had  begun  to  realise  that  he 
was  no  longer  his  own.  A  smile,  put  on  for  the  decep- 
tion of  the  Whig  workman  who  passed  and  touched 
his  hat  to  his  leader,  had  shown  .him  his  future  path. 
He  was  bought,  he  was  on  a  chain,  and  this  officer  of 
low  grade  was  his  keeper. 

As  they  went  they  met  on  a  narrow  side  street  a  lean, 
tall  man,  with  threadbare  coat  unbrushed,  and  with 
apprehensive  aspect.  His  eyes  were  shifting  quickly, 
and  as  he  passed  he  made  no  response  to  the  doctor's 
greeting  of :  "  Good  day,  Mr.  Ellery." 

"Ellery?"  asked  Sotheran,  halting.  "Did  you  call 
him  Ellery?" 

"  Ay,"  answered  the  doctor.  "  Thomas  Ellery,  the 
uncle  of — your  friend." 

"  Turn  back,"  said  the  captain  quickly.  "  You  shall 
introduce  me." 

But  Mr.  Ellery,  after  bowing  and  smiling  mechanic- 
ally, begged  to  be  excused.  "  I  am  in  haste,"  he  said. 
"  You  must  pardon  me." 

"  He  is  quite  spiritless,"  whispered  Church  to  Soth- 
eran, as  Mr.  Ellery  started  on. 

"  By  your  leave,"  answered  Sotheran,  "  I  will  in- 
spirit him.  Wait  me  here  a  minute,  good  doctor,  while 
I  have  a  word  with  him." 

He  caught  up  with  Mr.  Ellery,  and  walked  at  his  side. 
"  Sir,"  he  said,  "  although  of  such  brief  acquaintance, 
I  wish  to  recommend  myself  to  you." 

"  I  will  remember  you,"  replied  Mr.  Ellery. 

"Nay,"  said  the  captain,  studying  the  wrinkled  face; 
"  but  you  have  not  yet  observed  me,  nor  can  you  repeat 
my  name." 

"  I  pray  you,"  begged  Ellery,  hurrying  on,  "  let 
me  go." 


15 


2io  The  Colonials 

"  Let  me  speak,"  replied  Sotheran,  keeping  pace  with 
him.  "  I  will  not  delay  you.  I  wish  to  speak  of  your 
nephew." 

"Which?" 

"  The  older,  Francis." 

"  Well,  say  quickly." 

"  I  am  his  friend." 

Mr.  Ellery  cried  out  suddenly :  "  I  wish  nothing  to 
do  with  you!  " 

"  Such  a  friend,"  continued  Sotheran,  "  that  I  wish 
he  were  in  the  harbour.  That  I  would  put  him  there 
again." 

He  finished  with  a  sudden  snarl  of  hate.  Mr.  Ellery 
stopped,  and  stood  staring  at  him. 

"  Now  look  at  me,"  said  Sotheran.  "  Remember  my 
face.  Shall  we  not  be  friends?  We  can  serve  each 
other.  We  have  the  same  purpose,  you  and  I." 

Mr.  Ellery  put  a  trembling  hand  on  Sotheran's  arm. 
"  Your  name?  "  he  asked  huskily. 

"  Sotheran  of  the  Fourth,"  he  replied.  "  Courage, 
sir.  You  are  not  alone.  I  will  wait  upon  you.  We 
shall  see  what  we  can  do  together,  eh?" 

"  Yes,  come  and  see  me,"  agreed  Mr.  Ellery.  "  No, 
he  might  be  there.  Let  me  come  to  you.  When,  and 
where?  " 

"  Soon,"  answered  Sotheran.  "  Soon;  I  will  let  you 
know.  Meanwhile,  remember  me.  Good  day." 

"  Sotheran  of  the  Fourth,"  repeated  Mr.  Ellery,  and 
stood  looking  after  him. 

"  Well,"  said  Doctor  Church,  as  the  captain  rejoined 
him,  "  whether  or  not  you  have  put  spirit  into  the  old 
fellow,  he  is  changed." 

They  went  again  to  their  former  place  of  meeting, 
called  for  cards  and  wine,  and  presently  money  and 


An  Armed  Truce  2 1 1 

a  folded  paper  changed  hands.  After  a  proper  interval, 
warm  with  his  wine,  and  satisfied,  the  doctor  went  away. 

The  captain  remained  after  the  other  had  departed; 
he  sipped  his  wine  and  drummed  on  the  table  with  his 
fingers.  He  thought,  and  his  powerful  face  displayed 
unusual  traces  of  his  feelings,  as  in  his  dusky  corner 
he  felt  himself  free  from  observation.  Ideas  were  com- 
ing to  him,  his  plans  were  moving  forward,  and  he  saw 
in  the  future  not  merely  success,  but  triumph.  It  was 
not  long,  however,  before  Tabb  entered  the  room  and 
stood  at  attention  before  him. 

"Well,  Tabb?"  asked  the  captain.  "You  saw  me 
come  here?" 

"  Nothing  new  to-day,  sir.  Christine  says  Mr.  El- 
lery's  not  been  to  call  on  Mistress  Tudor  for  two  days." 

Sotheran  drummed  again  on  the  table.  "  Does  he 
still  give  you  the  cold  shivers  when  you  pass  him  on  the 
street?" 

"  Ay,"  returned  the  servant.  "  When  I  think  of  that 
time  I  ran  in  and  found  her  gone,  and  you  lying  in 
blood " 

"That  will  do!"  commanded  the  captain  sternly. 
"Tabb!" 

"  Sir? " 

"  Mistress  Tudor's  maid  pleases  you?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.     Nice  little  thing.    Sort  of  innocent." 

"  She  likes  you?  " 

"  I  think  so." 

Sotheran  leaned  forward  and  looked  m  his,  eye. 
"  Make  her  like  you  more,"  he  said.  "  Play  with  her. 
Turn  her  head." 

"  Sir?  "  asked  Tabb,  a  stare  and  a  smirk  contending 
on  his  face. 

"Make  her  yours!"  commanded  the  captain.  "Do 
you  understand?" 


212  The  Colonials 

"  Yes,  sir." 

The  captain  placed  a  guinea  on  the  table,  and  left 
the  tavern.  The  servant  called  the  landlord,  ordered 
wine,  and  began  in  his  turn  to  play  the  officer. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

PETTINESS 

That  corner  in  the  tap-room  of  the  Silver  Ball,  where 
Sotheran  and  Church  already  twice  had  sat,  was  des- 
tined before  long  to  see  another  meeting.  The  captain 
sent  word  by  Tabb  to  Thomas  Ellery  that  on  such  a  day, 
at  such  an  hour,  he  could  be  found  at  the  tavern.  But 
to  his  surprise  and  disgust,  at  the  appointed  time  there 
entered,  not  Ellery  alone,  but  also  Brush. 

The  world  at  that  moment  was  not  going  well  with 
the  New  Yorker.  He  was  out  of  money,  he  wanted 
more,  and  on  the  street  he  clung  to  his  brother-in-law 
for  the  purpose  of  extorting  it.  He  began  to  drop 
hints.  The  boy — oh,  Ellery  knew  well  enough  what 
boy — there  was  a  secret  about  him  which  Ellery  would 
like  to  know.  Would  he  pay  to  know?  Ten  guineas — 
eight  guineas?  Never;  and  Ellery  marched  on. 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Brush  at  last,  "  the  boy  has  run 
away.  Now,  will  you  pay?  " 

"  Run  away!  "  cried  Ellery,  between  delight  and  un- 
belief. '"  When?  Where?" 

"  A  year  ago.     But  where? — as  if  I  knew!  " 

"Couldn't  you  find  him — catch  him?" 

"  No,"  answered  Brush;  "  and  tried  my  best,  too. 
Now,  won't  you  give  me  something,  Tom?  " 

"  Why  should  I?  "  grinned  Ellery,  resuming  his  walk. 
"  He's  gone." 

"Ah,"  responded  Brush,  "but  where  is  he?" 


214  The  Colonials 

Ellery  stopped  in  alarm.  "  Will  he  come  here  and 
find  me?" 

"Fool!"  sneered  the  other.  "He  doesn't  know  of 
you,  or  his  own  name." 

The  father  was  relieved.  "  Don't  you  call  me  a  fool. 
Crean,"  he  directed,  walking  on.  Brush  still  followed. 

"  Now  you'll  give  me  something,  won't  you,  Tom?  " 
he  asked.  "  Just  for  the  news." 

Ellery  had  reached  his  destination.  "  No,"  he  an- 
swered. "  Now,  I'm  going  in  here,  Crean,  to  meet  a 
gentleman.  I  don't  want  you.  Come  to  me  to-mor- 
row," he  added  as  a  propitiating  afterthought,  and  en- 
tered the  tavern. 

But  Brush,  like  a  bulldog,  shook  his  surly  head. 
"To-morrow!"  he  repeated  angrily.  "I'll  see  what 
sort  of  a  gentleman  he  is  to  meet."  He  entered  after 
Ellery,  and  stood  lowering  at  him  and  Sotheran. 

"  What  does  he  want?"  demanded  the  captain  haught- 
ily. "  Why  did  you  bring  him?  Send  him  away."  But 
as  Ellery  turned  he  found  Brush  at  his  side,  about  to 
accost  him  again. 

"  Tom,"  said  Brush,  "  I'll  tell  you  something  now, 
by  Gad!  that  will  make  you  pay.  That  boy ' 

"  Go  away,"  cried  Ellery  in  an  agony.  "  Crean,  you've 
been  drinking." 

Brush  had  been  drinking,  just  enough  to  make  him 
stubborn.  "  Not  with  money  of  yours,"  he  retorted, 
angrier  than  ever.  "  That  boy " 

"  Go  away!  "  repeated  Ellery. 

"  Is  here  in  Boston." 

Ellery  actually  reeled.  The  captain,  scornfully  set- 
tling himself  to  wait,  saw  the  dismay  on  his  face,  and 
at  once  was  attentive.  "In  Boston!"  gasped  the  un- 
happy parent. 

"  In  your  own  honse,"  axkterf  Frush. 


An  Armed  Truce  215 

"Mine?    What!" 

"  Your  nephew's  servant." 

"  Roger!  "  sighed  Ellery,  and  sank  in  a  chair. 

He  was  but  a  panting,  timorous  creature  as  he  en- 
deavoured to  collect  himself.  His  shaking  hands,  his 
open  mouth,  his  rounded  shoulders,  even  his  grizzled 
hair  betrayed  agitation,  straying  from  his  queue.  The 
other  two  surveyed  him,  Sotheran  with  cold  amuse- 
ment, Brush  with  contempt. 

"What!"  cried  the  New  Yorker,  as  Ellery  did  not 
speak.  "  He  knows  you  not.  He  will  not  hurt  you, 
Tom — not  bite.  A  boy,  a  mere  shaver.  Brace  yourself !" 

"  But  if  he  knew!  "  exclaimed  Ellery  hoarsely. 

"  I  will  see  you  again  about  that,"  answered  Brush 
with  meaning,  and  turned  to  go. 

But  the  captain,  his  scarlet  blazing  in  the  dingy  room, 
raised  an  arm.  "  Stay,  friend,"  he  commanded  lazily. 
"  Come,  sit  down.  Here  is  wine." 

"  I  must  go,"  stammered  Ellery,  beginning  to  scram- 
ble to  his  feet. 

"  Nor  you  either,"  returned  the  captain.  "  Sit  still. 
Now,  friends,  what  is  this  pretty  little  mystery?" 

He  looked  from  one  to  the  other  as  they  hesitated. 
Brush  enquired  of  Ellery  with  .his  eye:  "Shall  I  tell?" 
Ellery,  with  a  face  of  dismay,  signalled  "  No."  But  the 
captain,  seeing  some  new  thing  connected  with  Frank, 
meant  to  understand  it. 

"  Come,"  he  said  slowly — "  drink,  Mr.  Brush — it 
seems  there  is  a  boy  in  question,  whom  I  think  I  re- 
member to  have  seen.  He  turns  up  unexpectedly  in 
the  house  of  Mr.  Ellery,  who,  k  would  seem,  would 
prefer  him  in  Tartary.  He  knows  the  boy,  but  the  boy 
does  not  know  him.  He  fears  harm,  but  the  boy  can- 
not harm  him  unless  Mr.  Brush  says  a  certain  word. 
What  is  that  word,  Mr.  Brush?  " 


216  The  Colonials 

But  he  received  no  reply. 

"The  word,"  said  the  captain  genially,  "sticks  in 
Mr.  Brush's  throat.  But  let  me  examine.  There  is 
something  that  Mr.  Ellery  does  not  wish  the  boy  to 
know.  It  would  seem  " — he  eyed  Mr.  Ellery,  smiling — 
"  as  if  there  were — some — hidden — relationship." 

"  No!  "  cried  Mr.  Ellery,  starting  from  his  chair. 

His  pale  face  was  spotted  with  red,  his  eyes  showed 
fear,  his  breath,  as  he  stood  and  panted,  came  rasping 
in  his  throat.  Brush  looked  up  at  him  in  comprehen- 
sion, but  the  captain  quietly  smiled. 

"  Oh,  sit  down,"  he  drawled.  "  There  is  no  cause  for 
agitation.  The  secret  is  safe  with  me.  Pray  sit  down; 
that  is  right.  And  so  this  handsome  stripling  is  your — 
son?"  He  read  the  correctness  of  his  guess  in  the 
downcast  looks  of  both,  and  languidly  smiled. 

"  A  little  wine,  Mr.  Ellery,"  he  said,  rilling  a  glass 
and  pushing  it  across.  "  The  weather  is  cold.  Pray  do 
not  regret  my  discovery  of  this  interesting  secret.  Per- 
haps I  can  make  good  use  of  it.  Come,  let  me  enquire 
a  little  further."  And  he  presently  drew  from  them  a 
few  more  particulars. 

"  The  boy  knows  himself  only  as  Mr.  Brush's 
nephew,"  he  mused.  "Supposes  his  father  dead; 
knows  not  his  own  name.  For  some  time  he  has 
been  Mr.  Francis  Ellery's  servant.  I  understand  there 
is  a  strong  attachment  between  them.  Now,  how  can 
we  relieve  Mr.  Ellery  of  the  lad's  presence,  which  will 
be  painful  to  him?  " 

"  Yes,"  interjected  Mr.  Ellery  eagerly. 

"  Come,  Mr.  Ellery,  what  do  you  offer  to  be  rid  of 
the  boy?  " 

"  Rid! "  cried  Ellery.  He  leaned  forward,  both  hands 
held  out.  "  Oh !  if  you — "  Then  he  realised  his  mis- 
take, and  stopped  petrified,  his  face  ashen.  Sotheran 


An  Armed  Truce  2 1 7 

was  looking  at  him  in  cynical  understanding,  Brush 
with  a  sturdy  disgust. 

"  Gad!  Tom,"  cried  his  brother-in-law,  "  why  do  you 
hate  the  boy  so?  To  wish  him  out  of  the  world — hell! 
it's  unnatural." 

"  Nay,"  said  Sotheran.  "  The  instinct  of  a  father  is 
always  true.  But — I  surprised  a  secret  desire,  Mr.  El- 
lery.  Now,  how  much  do  you  bid?" 

"  Nothing,"  gasped  Ellery.  "  You're  wrong — quite 
wrong,  truly." 

"  Then  let  us  forget  it,"  went  on  the  captain  smoothly. 
"  Mr.  Brush,  we  were  both  mistaken.  Let  us  begin 
again.  How  much,  Mr.  Ellery,  will  you  offer  Mr.  Brush 
to  relieve  your  house  of  the  presence  of  the  boy?  " 

"  Five  guineas,"  proposed  Mr.  Ellery,  willing  even 
at  a  high  price  to  buy  his  former  words.  "  Six " 

"  Ten,"  amended  Brush  briefly.  "  And  his  clothes 
and  keep." 

"  Send  him  back  to  New  York,"  suggested  Ellery, 
"  to  his  mother." 

"  Send — who  with?  "  demanded  Brush.  "  He'd  escape 
on  the  way." 

"Let  him,"  thought  Ellery;  but  Sotheran  spoke 
again : 

"  Ten  guineas  will  satisfy  Mr.  Brush  from  Mr.  Ellery. 
And  ten — from  me." 

"From  you!"  cried  they  both,  turning  upon  him. 
"From  you?  Why?" 

"  Because,"  he  answered  indifferently,  "  I  mean  to 
have  the  boy." 

"  You!  "  repeated  Brush.    "  What  for?  " 

"  Perhaps,"  answered  the  captain,  "  to  please  Mr.  El- 
lery. And  I  need  another  servant — to  run  errands, 
black  shoes,  and  assist  my  man." 

"  Don't  let  him  run  out  of  sight,"  advised   Brush, 


218  The  Colonials 

laughing  loudly,  "  or  he'll  never  come  back.  But  come, 
it's  agreed.  Give  me  my  money,  and  I  get  you  the 
boy." 

The  captain  counted  down  five  guineas  from  his 
purse.  "  The  rest,"  he  said,  "  on  delivery  of  the  article." 

"And  you,  Tom?"  demanded  Brush,  his  eyes  snap- 
ping. Ellery  did  the  same.  "  There!  "  cried  Brush, 
spinning  a  coin  on  the  board.  "  And  easily  earned,"  he 
added  to  himself,  sweeping  the  money,  spinner  and  all, 
into  his  great  palm. 

Ellery  leaned  toward  Sotheran.  "  Why  did  you  ask 
me  to  come?  "  he  asked  in  a  low  voice. 

"  To  make  your  acquaintance,"  answered  the  officer. 
"  To  satisfy  myself  how  far  you  are  willing  to  help  me 
with  your  nephew.  I  think  " — and  he  smiled  with  mean- 
ing— "  that  I  know." 

Ellery  winced,  but  continued  to  look  into  Sotheran's 
face.  "You  hate  him?"  he  asked  anxiously. 

"  More  than  you,"  replied  the  captain.  "  I  have  more 
staked  against  him." 

"  Not  half  so  much,"  exclaimed  Ellery,  heedless  that 
Brush  could  hear.  "  Not  half — but  Roger,  why  do  you 
want  him?  " 

"  You  are  inquisitive,"  said  Sotheran  coldly. 

"  But  why?  "  persisted  Ellery.  "  What  will  you  do 
to  him?  " 

Sotheran's  eye  for  an  instant  flashed  at  his  thought. 
"  I  want  the  boy,"  he  answered,  "  to  anger  your  nephew 
with.  To  ruin  him  before  his  eyes,  to " 

"  Yes,  yes?  "  urged  Ellery  eagerly. 

"  Nothing,"  finished  Sotheran,  nodding  with  his  head 
toward  Brush.  But  Brush  was  ostentatiously  pocket- 
ing his  money. 

"  Egad!  "  he  muttered  to  himself.  "  You  have  a  job 
on  your  hands,  my  fine  Englishman.  Roger  knows  a 
thing  or  two." 


CHAPTER  IX 

ROGER 

In  the  great  Ellery  kitchen,  where  years  had  dis- 
coloured the  ceiling,  and  touched  with  sobering  hand 
the  walls,  bright  utensils  still  shone,  and  on  the  hearth 
a  fire  flamed.  It  was  night,  but  the  fire  and  one  candle 
sufficed  for  light,  throwing  shadows  into  corners  and 
upon  the  walls.  The  place  was  warm,  homely,  and 
cheerful,  and  the  four  who  sat  before  the  fire  felt,  each 
in  degree,  the  influence  of  the  room. 

Ann  and  Nick  and  Pete  and  Roger  sat  in  a  semi- 
circle. The  two  men  held  glasses  in  their  hands,  and 
Pete,  looking  to  measure  the  liquid  that  steamed  upon 
the  hearth,  saw  with  satisfaction  that  there  was  plenty 
more. 

"  'Tis  a  good  drink  you  brew,  Ann,"  he  said,  reaching 
for  the  crock. 

"  Pay  for  it,  then,"  she  answered.  "  Tell  me  some 
more  news.  I  go  so  seldom  from  the  house  that  I  hear 
little.  How  goes  it,  d'ye  think,  with  Master  Frank  and 
Mistress  Tudor?  Why  does  he  delay?" 

"  Well,"  ventured  Pete,  "  for  one  thing,  he's  too  busy 
to  see  her  much,  with  his  work  for  the  committees,  and 
being  Doctor  Warren's  right-hand  man.  And  Lord! 
she's  so  ringed  round  with  officers  and  Tories — how  can 
a  Whig  go  there?  " 

"  But  he  does  go,"  cried  Roger  eagerly.  "  He'll  win 
her!" 


22O  The  Colonials 

"  To  his  luck,"  responded  Pete.  "  Roger,  you're  not 
drinking?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Roger.  "  I've  drunk  too  much  in 
my  life.  I  drink  but  when  I  must." 

Pete  turned  in  order  to  look  at  him  the  better. 
"  Drunk  too  much  in  your  life!  Hear  the  boy!"  He 
and  Ann  laughed  together  loudly,  and  Roger  flushed. 

"  My  uncle,"  he  said,  "  began  on  me  at  three  years, 
first  with  beer,  then  with  spirits.  I  learned  to  carry  it 
— and  I  learned  other  things,  too,"  he  added  slyly. 

"  What  other  things  ?  "  enquired  Pete  with  curiosity. 

"  To  be  drunk,"  explained  Roger.  "  Uncle  always 
was  ugly  when  tipsy,  but  I'd  lie  like  the  dead  when  I  saw 
danger  coming,  and  he  wouldn't  beat  me.  I  learned  to 
lie  still  for  hours." 

"  Good!  "  cried  Pete.  "  But  who  was  he,  this  uncle 
of  yours?  " 

"  Never  mind,"  answered  the  boy,  and  closed  his 
mouth  so  tight 'that  they  laughed.  They  had  learned 
that  on  some  subjects  Roger  could  not  be  made  to 
speak. 

"  All  right,"  said  Pete,  and  turned  to  Nick.  "  What 
gossip  from  the  shop?"  Another  moment,  and  they 
were  launched  on  the  stream  of  politics. 

Roger  sat  closely  listening.  A  thin,  sharp  lad  he 
seemed  to  be,  with  bright,  unhealthy  eyes  and  mouth 
long  used  to  hiding  secrets.  Eager  to  learn,  stubborn- 
idea'd,  in  his  own  person  knowing  well  the  meaning  of 
oppression,  his  course  of  life  had  taught  him  the  value 
of  certain  things.  He  had  made  his  own  fight  for  free-' 
dom,  had  tested  its  dangers  and  its  delights;  knew 
hardship  and  ease,  roughness  and  kindness,  hatred  and 
love.  Already  he  had  pledged  his  devotions,  at  what- 
ever risk.  He  was  Frank  Ellery's  slave,  and  forever  a 
Whig. 


An  Armed  Truce  221 

He  could  not  fail  to  be  both  the  one  and  the  other. 
He  ran  away  from  his  uncle  because  he  could  not  bear 
his  tyranny;  he  heard  discussed  everywhere  in  the  coun- 
try the  principles  of  liberty;  he  had  made  his  way  toward 
Boston,  because  it  was  liberty's  home.  Injured  and 
freezing  in  the  country,  Frank  had  not  only  found  and 
succoured  him,  but  also  kept  him  carefully  and  kindly. 
In  Boston  the  boy  was  happy,  until  the  shock  came  of 
meeting  again  with  his  uncle. 

Dread  constantly  hung  over  him  that  he  would  be 
taken  back.  But  he  had  been  allowed  to  stay  where  he 
was,  and  continued  to  admire  and  study  the  great  men 
of  the  town.  He  knew  them  all  by  sight  and  name,  he 
understood  their  desires,  he  was  close  to  the  undercur- 
rents of  intrigue  that  accompany  all  great  political 
movements.  He  longed  to  be  more,  to  be  active  in  the 
work,  if  but  the  bearer  of  a  note  or  a  watcher  at  a 
window.  And  he  would  be — he  felt  it — suitable  for 
such  purpose. 

The  others  came  in  their  talk  to  the  discussion  of 
the  movements  of  the  troops.  Roger  did  not  need  to  be 
told  that  every  lounger  at  a  corner,  every  stroller  in 
the  streets,  each  man  out  of  work,  each  woman  at  her 
kitchen  door,  was  a  Whig  agent,  self-appointed.  Every 
unusual  action  of  the  soldiers  was  at  once  noted  and  re- 
ported. "  But,"  emphasised  Pete,  "  we  want  more.  To 
learn  their  plans  beforehand — how  can  we  do  that?" 

"What  plans?"  asked  Roger. 

"  Of  seizing  our  leaders.  They've  threatened  it  for 
months.  Or  of  marching  out  after  our  stores  in  the 
country.  If  they  should  strike  quickly,  we  could  not 
prevent." 

Roger  drew  the  long  sigh  of  a  visionary.  To  save 
Hancock  and  Warren  from  seizure,  to  give  warning  of 
the  movements  of  the  troops — even  a  boy  could  do 


222  The  Colonials 

these!  His  eyes  grew  dim  with  desire  for  the  op- 
portunity. 

And  then  the  blow,  so  long  dreaded,  fell.  His  uncle 
appeared  at  the  kitchen  door,  to  seize  and  carry  him 
off.  It  was  in  vain  that  Pete  and  Nick  protested;  Mr. 
Ellery  was  there  to  sustain  Brush.  Pete  sent  Nick  for 
Master  Frank — that  was  all  that  could  be  done — while 
the  ropemaker  himself  dogged  Brush's  steps  as  he  led 
the  boy  through  the  streets. 

Since  Brush  had  seized  him,  Roger  had  not  said  a 
word.  "  Roger,"  asked  Pete,  ranging  up  alongside. 
"  Is  he  your  uncle?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  boy. 

"  Shall  I  smash  him?    Will  you  run?" 

"No,"  stammered  Roger.  "  Oh,  I  can't  do  it;  I'm 
not  able." 

Pete  dropped  back.  "  Wait  till  Mr.  Frank  comes !  " 
he  threatened  Brush. 

Brush  hurried,  almost  dragging  the  boy,  through 
the  streets.  They  were  nearly  deserted  at  that  time  of 
night,  but  at  each  figure  he  saw  approaching  he  grasped 
his  cudgel  firmer,  and  constantly  over  his  shoulder 
cast  glances  at  Pete  coming  close  behind.  He  began 
to  breathe  easier  as  he  approached  his  destination;  and 
at  last,  when  he  turned  into  the  street  where  were 
Sotheran's  quarters,  he  felt  relieved.  A  light  was  burn- 
ing at  the  captain's  window.  Brush  went  quickly,  and 
knocked  at  the  door. 

Then  he  was  forced  to  wait;  and  waiting,  he  heard 
the  hasty  steps  of  persons  coming  along  the  street  from 
its  other  end.  Pete  stood  close  at  his  side.  Brush 
could  but  hold  the  boy  and  look  in  the  direction  of  the 
sounds.  They  came  nearer;  it  seemed  as  if  two  persons 
were  coming,  one  with  quick  light  steps,  one  with  a 
firmer  stride.  Then  two  men,  the  taller  in  advance,  the 


An  Armed  Truce  223 

shorter  tagging  close  behind,  came  in  sight  under  the 
street  lamp. 

"  Here,  sir!  "  cried  Pete  in  delight. 

"  Stand  there  on  the  steps,  Roger,"  ordered  Brush 
roughly.  He  placed  the  boy  against  the  door,  and 
again  rapped  loudly  with  his  stick.  To  his  joy  he  heard 
feet  on  the  stair  within,  just  as  Frank  Ellery  neared  him. 

There  was  a  little  light  from  the  street  lamp.  Frank 
came  close  to  the  man  and  looked  him  in  the  face. 
"  What's  this,  Brush?  "  he  asked  quietly. 

"  He's  my  nephew,  sir,"  asserted  Brush  with  excite- 
ment. "  He  ran  away  from  me.  I  found  him  at  your 
house.  I  have  a  right  to  him." 

"  You  might  have  come  to  me,"  replied  Frank.  "  I 
will  buy  your  right.  Give  me  the  boy.  Roger,  go  to 
Pete.  How  much?"  he  asked  of  the  New  Yorker. 

"  I  won't  give  him  up,"  cried  Brush.  "  Roger,  stay 
where  you  are."  He  knocked  again  on  the  door. 

"  Mr.  Brush,"  began  Frank  again,  this  time  sternly. 
But  Brush  heard  some  one  rattling  the  fastenings  of 
the  door.  "  No,  no!"  he  cried.  To  make  sure,  he 
caught  Roger  by  one  arm,  just  as  Pete  seized  him  by  the 
other.  Then  the  door  swung  open. 

There  in  a  flood  of  light  stood  Sotheran,  and  behind 
him  Tabb.  The  scarlet  uniforms  were  brilliant,  and 
Sotheran  stood  and  smiled,  a  jaunty,  sneering  figure. 

"What's  all  this  noise?"  he  asked.  "Ha,  Ellery! 
squabbling  at  my  door?  " 

"  I've  brought  the  boy,  sir,"  said  Brush  eagerly. 

"  Very  well,"  answered  the  captain.  "  Let  him  alone, 
fellow.  Here,  Tabb,  take  the  boy." 

But  Pete  cried  out  so  fiercely,  "  Stand  back!  "  that 
Tabb  recoiled.  Frank  stepped  forward. 

"  A  word  with  you,  Captain,"  he  said. 


224  The  Colonials 

"  Be  quick,  then,"  was  the  answer.  Standing  above, 
Sotheran  looked  down  insolently. 

"  The  boy  is  my  servant,"  said  Frank.  "  By  what 
right  do  you  take  him?  " 

"  He  is  my  nephew,"  bawled  Brush. 

"Is  that  true,  Roger?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  boy. 

Frank  paused,  then  turned  to  Brush.  "  Once  more, 
Mr.  Brush,  give  him  to  me." 

"  The  boy  is  the  captain's." 

"Well?"  demanded  Sotheran,  as  Frank  looked  at 
him. 

A  hasty  word  was  on  Frank's  lip,  but  he  bit  it  in  two. 
He  clenched  tight  his  cane — his  grandfather's  sword- 
cane — as   he   restrained  himself.     "  Then,   Captain  "- 
and  his  tone  was  quiet — "  pray  return  the  boy  to  me." 

"A  request?"  asked  the  captain. 

"  If  you  please." 

"Then  damn  your  request!  "  cried  Sotheran.  "  You 
sneaking  Puritan,  go  back  to  your  committees!" 

Nick  and  Pete,  with  angry  snarls,  drew  closer.  Frank 
stood  firm.  "  Captain,"  he  asked,  "  what  mean  you  to 
do  with  the  boy?  " 

The  captain  came  down  one  step.  '"'  To  wreck  him!  " 
he  answered.  "  To  spoil,  by  God,  the  thing  you  care 
for!" 

Anger  boiled  up  in  Frank's  breast,  and  carried  him 
away.  He  strode  closer,  and  seized  Sotheran  by  the 
sleeve.  "  Captain " 

"Well?" 

"  Three  minutes  with  you  in  a  chamber.  Candles, 
and  your  pistols." 

The  captain  threw  off  the  clasp.  "  No!  "  he  cried. 
"  Damn  you,  'tis  my  turn  now!  You  had  your  chance, 


An  Armed  Truce  225 

and  lost  it.  Ellery,  by  God,  I'll  ruin  you,  and  I  begin 
this  night!  " 

"Come  down!"  answered  Frank  vehemently.  He 
twisted  his  cane  in  his  hands,  and  drew  out  the  short, 
light  blade.  "  Here,  under  the  lamp!  I  have  a  sword, 
bring  yours!  " 

The  captain  hesitated;  the  temptation  was  strong. 
Against  his  own  longer  weapon  Frank  would  stand 
small  chance.  But  his  revenge  was  too  well  planned; 
he  put  the  opportunity  by,  and  laughed. 

"  Tabb,"  he  said,  "  take  the  boy." 

''By  heaven!"  cried  Frank,  "you  shall  lose  him  or 
fight  for  him.  Pete,  stop  him!  " 

But  as  Pete,  with  a  snarl  of  joy  at  the  permission, 
sprang  forward  at  Tabb,  Roger  came  in  between, 
stretching  out  his  hands.  "  Master  Frank,"  he  said, 
"  I'm  satisfied  to  stay.  I'd — I'd  rather  stay." 

"  Roger!  "  cried  Frank,  astonished. 

"  I — I  want  to  stay,"  stammered  Roger.  "  Don't  try 
to  get  me  back.  I — I  want  to  be  with  the  soldiers." 
Then  he  burst  into  tears. 

"  Take  him  in,  Tabb,"  directed  Sotheran  again,  and 
the  servant  led  the  boy  into  the  house.  The  three 
Whigs  stood  astonished;  Brush  himself  was  scarcely 
less  so;  but  Sotheran  turned  for  a  final  word. 

"  Your  own  servant  against  you,"  he  sneered.  '''  The 
rats  leave  the  sinking  ship." 

"  You  refuse  my  challenge,  Captain?  " 

"  I  would  not  soil  my  sword,"  was  the  answer;  and 
drawing  Brush  after  him,  the  captain  went  in  and  closed 
the  door. 

His  eyes  were  gleaming  with  satisfaction.  ''  Take 
the  boy  upstairs,  Tabb,"  he  directed.  "  Friend  Brush, 
I  am  obliged  to  you." 

"  They're  going,"  said  Brush,  listening  at  the  door. 


226  The  Colonials 

"  They're  gone.  I'll  slip  off  the  other  way.  The  five 
guineas,"  he  suggested.  Sotheran  gave  them.  Brush 
paused  for  a  warning  before  he  opened  the  door. 
"  Don't  be  too  sure  of  the  lad;  he's  sly." 

"  Not  too  sly  for  me,"  replied  the  other.  "  Good 
night." 

Brush  went  quietly  out,  and  Sotheran  ascended  to  his 
room.  The  fire  of  his  recent  defiance  was  still  in  his 
eyes,  and  in  his  breast  the  brute  was  aroused.  "  Chal- 
lenge me,  would  he?"  he  muttered.  "Gad!  I'll  break 
him."  He  entered  his  room.  "  Well,  where  is  that 
boy?" 

Roger,  trembling,  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  floor. 
The  captain  took  the  candle  in  his  hand,  and  surveyed 
him  closely.  "  Thin,"  he  commented.  "  Well,  you'll 
be  thinner.  Can  you  work?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Roger. 

"  Speak  up.    What  can  you  do?    Clean  boots?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Louder.    Brush  clothes?    Polish  brass?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Do  your  work  well,  then,  or  beware  the  strap.  Are 
you  a  Whig?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  A  Tory?  "  with  contempt.  "  You  lie.  Tabb,  my 
cane." 

"  A  Tory!    A  Tory!  "  asserted  Roger  earnestly. 

The  captain  struck  him  across  the  knuckles.  Roger 
cried  out.  "  If  a  Tory,"  demanded  Sotheran,  "  why  did 
you  stay  with  tha.t  Whig?  " 

"  He  was  kind  to  me." 

"  Kind?  Then  so  am  I.  Well,  if  a  Tory,  you  shall 
prove  it.  Tabb,  a  glass  of  wine.  Now,  boy,  drink  me 
a  toast.  The  king! "  He  gave  the  glass  to  the  lad, 


An  Armed  Truce  227 

who  took  it  and  raised  it  to  his  lips.     "  The  king,  you 
oaf!  " 

"  The  king,"  repeated  Roger,  and  drank. 

"  All,  all  of  it!  "  warned  the  officer.  Tabb  stood  ready 
with  the  bottle.  "  Fill  again,  Tabb.  Now,  boy — Lord 
North." 

"  Lord  North." 

"  Fill  again.  What,  boy,  you  drink  to  Lord  North?  " 
Sotheran  eyed  him  suspiciously.  "  No  tricks  with  me." 
The  boy  was  trembling  and  evidently  afraid;  but  he 
held  up  his  head. 

"  Truly,"  he  said,  "  I'm  a  Tory.  You  heard  what  I 
said  to  Mr.  Ellery.  I'd  rather  be  with  you." 

The  captain  grumbled,  and  looked  him  over.  "  By 
Gad!  if  you  try  to  deceive  me — "  he  muttered.  "  Give 
him  the  glass  again,  Tabb.  Now,  boy,  the  Boston  Port 
Bill!  All— all!  "  as  Roger  drank. 

Yet  the  captain  was  not  satisfied.  "  Tabb,"  he  said, 
"  the  brandy.  Now,  this  time  we  shall  see.  This 
time " 

"  Please,  sir,"  begged  Roger  plaintively,  "  I  feel 
dizzy." 

"Confusion  to  Adams  and  Warren!    Drink." 

Roger  was  pale.    "  I  feel  so  strange,  sir,"  he  pleaded. 

"  The  toast,"  repeated  the  captain,  his  cane  raised. 
"Drink!" 

The  boy  seemed  unsteady  on  his  feet.  "Confusion — " 
he  began. 

"  To  Adams  and  Warren!  " 

"To  Adams  and  Warren!"  He  raised  the  glass  to 
his  lips,  opened  his  mouth  to  drink,  then  collapsed.  He 
fell  heavily,  the  glass  was  shattered,  and  the  fumes  of 
the  brandy  rose  in  the  room.  The  boy  lay  where  he 
fell,  and  began  breathing  hoarsely.  Sotheran  pushed 
him  with  his  foot,  but  Roger  did  not  move. 


228  The  Colonials 

"  Pick  up  the  glass,  Tabb,"  directed  Sotheran.  "  Now 
you  may  go."  He  sat  at  his  table  and  eyed  the  pros- 
trate boy.  The  beast  in  him  was  not  yet  satisfied;  he 
wished  he  might  do  more.  But  he  began  to  gloat  over 
his  success  of  the  evening.  It  was  brutal,  unworthy — 
more,  it  was  wanton — but  he  was  pleased.  He  did  not 
foresee  that  that  unnecessary  act  would  destroy  his 
most  careful  plans.  As  he  rose  and  left  the  room, 
Roger,  through  lids  scarcely  open,  watched  him  go. 


CHAPTER  X 

TENSION 

For  more  than  six  months  had  existed  an  unparalleled 
situation  in  Massachusetts.  Since  that  day  in  September 
when  bloodshed  was  imminent,  the  colony  had  governed 
itself.  Its  capital  was  defended  against  the  mainland  by 
a  fleet  of  ships,  and  by  earthworks  on  the  Neck.  In 
it  were  the  governor  and  his  council,  with  judges,  com- 
missioners, and  sheriffs — all  of  the  crown  officials,  in 
short,  that  had  been  able  to  flee  from  the  country  to 
the  protection  of  the  troops.  None  dared  to  return 
to  their  homes,  knowing  that  those  of  their  associates 
who  were  still  outside  of  Boston  had  resigned  their  posi- 
tions, and  found  it  prudent  to  remain  within  the  limits 
of  their  estates. 

But  though  in  the  colony  the  old  machinery  of  gov- 
ernment was  stopped,  something  new  took  its  place — 
namely,  the  public  conscience.  In  defiance  of  Parlia- 
ment, the  people  held  meetings,  and  selectmen  of  towns 
were  tacitly  entrusted  with  the  responsibilities  of  keep- 
ing order  throughout  Massachusetts.  They  succeeded 
well.  Without  judges,  sheriffs,  or  juries,  with  all  laws 
in  abeyance  and  penalties  suspended,  never  had  there 
been  such  a  period  of  internal  tranquillity. 

There  was  communication  between  Boston  and  the 
country,  since  men  were  free  to  come  and  go.  Yet  the 
town  was  in  a  state  of  semi-siege;  few  provisions  could 
be  procured  for  the  army,  and  the  troops  were  on  salt 


230  The  Colonials 

rations.  No  proclamation  of  General  Gage  was  heeded 
beyond  the  limits  of  Boston,  except  his  bombastic 
pronunciamento  against  hypocrisy,  which  stirred  to  its 
depths  the  anger  of  the  colonists.  And  every  time  a 
body  of  troops  crossed  the  Neck  for  exercise  a  thou- 
sand eyes  were  on  them,  the  word  was  sent  around, 
and  the  whole  neighbourhood  was  ready  to  spring  to 
arms. 

Meanwhile,  into  Boston  continued  to  pour  contribu- 
tions for  the  relief  of  its  inhabitants.  From  Maine  to 
the  Carolinas  provisions  were  sent;  from  the  moun- 
taineers of  the  new  country  beyond  the  Alleghanies 
came  offerings.  Thus  were  supported  by  the  whole  of 
America  those  who  were  suffering  in  the  general  cause. 
Even  nature  herself  seemed  to  help,  for  the  winter  was 
the  mildest  ever  known.  In  patience  the  people  of 
Boston  bore  their  trials,  and  with  the  consciousness 
of  general  approval,  remained  firm.  They  would  not 
submit  to  the  acts  of  Parliament,  nor  would  they  pay 
for  the  tea.  They  simply  waited. 

But  at  a  time  when  greater  hardships  were  visible  in 
the  future,  each  mind  was  overclouded  with  cares. 
Painfully  situated  were  the  members  of  families  di- 
vided against  themselves.  Francis  Ellery,  working  to 
strengthen  the  Whig  cause,  rose  each  morning  with 
the  thought,  and  at  night  lay  down  with  it,  that  so  soon 
as  the  real  troubles  commenced,  Dickie  and  he  would 
be  on  opposite  sides.  The  great,  lovable  boy  had  a 
firm  hold  on  his  brother's  heart;  the  longer  they  lived 
in  the  same  house  the  closer  grew  the  bond. 

Frank  could  not  tell  how  much  he  was  to  Dickie. 
Dickie  followed  his'  own  road,  kept  to  his  Tory  com- 
panions, and  was  fond  of  his  uncle.  The  older  brother 
felt  great  anxiety  for  the  younger,  longing  to  go  with 
him,  to  warn,  protect,  and  instruct.  He  knew  the  dan- 


An  Armed  Truce  231 

gers  of  the  life  the  officers  were  teaching;  he  watched 
closely  for  the  signs  of  dissipation,  and  dreaded  to  see 
them  begin — the  heavy  eye  at  breakfast,  the  reeling  step 
at  night.  But  Dickie  preserved  always  the  same  aspect, 
kept  his  clear  skin  and  ruddy  lip,  and  in  every  way 
remained  the  same. 

But  in  the  younger  brother's  heart  still  gnawed  the 
worm  of  discontent,  and  thrived  on  what  it  found  there. 
Daily  Frank  grew  more  to  him,  and  his  love  increased. 
Secretly  to  look  upon  him  was  to  Dickie  a  pleasure; 
he  admired  the  superb  physique,  the  head  well  poised, 
the  eye  like  a  hawk,  and  the  mouth  like — like  nothing 
but  the  mouth  of  the  old  smuggler,  humorous  and 
firm.  But  humour  seldom  played  now  on  Frank's  lip, 
almost  banished  thence  by  the  last  years  of  care. 

And  Frank's  present  troubles  were  heavy.  Dickie 
divined  his  brother's  anxiety  for  him,  knew  the  disap- 
pointment and  chagrin  at  losing  Roger,  and  felt  sure 
that  Frank  was  sore  at  heart  over  his  relations  with 
Alice.  Sympathy  began  to  plead  in  Dickie's  heart 
against  his  judgment  of  his  brother,  to  offer  excuses, 
even  at  times  to  lead  the  lad  to  scrutinise  his  uncle's 
actions  and  to  weigh  his  words. 

At  such  times  Dickie  even  gained  some  insight  into 
politics;  so  far,  at  least,  as  to  perceive  one  cause  of 
surface  irritation.  He  noted  the  difference  between  the 
officers  of  the  army  and  the  people  whom  they  were 
sent  to  quell.  Brawls  were  almost  nightly  in  the  streets. 
"  These  fellows  have  it  all  their  way  at  home,"  thought 
Dickie.  "  They  do  as  they  please  when  returning  from 
a  drinking  bout;  the  good  citizens  yield  the  road,  pay 
damages,  and  say  nothing."  But  the  lad  knew  well  that 
the  exasperated  Bostonians  were  ready  to  repay  a  jostle 
with  a  push,  or  would  come  out  and  break  the  heads 
of  those  who  broke  the  windows — astonishing  and  dis- 


232  The  Colonials 

gusting  conduct,  as  the  officers  loudly  proclaimed. 
Dickie  had  a  brief  insight  into  the  personal  side  of  politi- 
cal disagreement,  realised  for  a  moment  how  differences 
in  manners  produced  irritation,  and  obscurely  perceived 
that  divergent  educations  can  produce  as  great  mis- 
understanding as  dissimilar  race  or  language. 

Yet  at  such  times  of  thought,  detecting  himself, 
Dickie  went  at  once  to  the  other  extreme.  He  loved  his 
uncle  remorsefully,  was  ultra-Tory,  and  plunged  the 
deeper  into  gay  society.  Then  in  the  very  midst  would 
rise  up  the  picture  of  Frank,  and  Dickie  would  pause, 
withdraw,  and  slip  home  to  bed. 

In  other  households  than  the  Ellerys'  were  doubt 
and  searching  of  heart;  even  in  one  where,  of  all  places, 
it  would  seem  content  should  rule.  Alice  Tudor  now 
lived  in  a  pleasant  cottage  in  the  court  end  of  the  town, 
with  colorless  Mrs.  Drew  as  housekeeper  and  com- 
panion, and  her  brother  under  the  same  roof  as  cavalier. 
Alice  was  testing  the  delights  of  simple  life,  and  found 
them  such  as  under  other  circumstances  she  could 
enjoy.  But  with  a  mind  stirred  by  alarms,  and  a  heart 
— none  but  she  knew  how  sadly — discontented,  she 
found  herself  in  the  condition  of  all  in  the  province, 
watching  and  waiting  as  the  days  passed. 

Her  time  was  spent  among  people  who.  were,  for  the 
most  part,  unaffectedly  confident  and  gay.  The  seren- 
ity of  the  remainder  was  deceitfully  natural.  Yet  by 
subtle  signs  Alice  came  to  know  that  the  more  serious 
among  the  loyalist  party  were  not  at  their  ease.  They 
were  aware,  as  was  she,  of  the  threatening  faces  of  the 
Whigs,  a  background  to  each  Tory  gathering.  With 
one  ear  they  listened  to  the  noises  in  the  air;  as  it  were, 
they  constantly  looked  over  their  shoulders  to  see  who 
was  behind.  Alice  could  not  meet  the  governor  and 
fail  to  know  that  his  cares  increased  fr.om  week  to  week, 


An  Armed  Truce  2  ; ; 

\J  \J 

nor  could  she  walk  upon  the  streets  and  not  perceive 
the  increasing  tension. 

Her  brother  did  nothing  to  put  her  at  rest.  His 
mind  was  on  the  same  subject;  as  she  watched  him  she 
saw  he  found  no  comfort.  Many  a  day  he  came  into 
her  parlour  with  a  weary  air,  between  his  eyes  a  frown, 
and  detaching  his  sword  would  stand  it  in  the  corner  as 
if  he  said:  "  Stay  there,  I'm  sick  of  thee." 

But  on  one  occasion  he  came  to  her  with  a  very 
thoughtful  face.  This  time  she  was  waiting  him  eagerly. 
"  Well,"  she  demanded,  "all  passed  off  quietly?" 

"  Quiet  enough,"  he  answered.  "  And  yet  every 
minute  we  were  on  a  powder  mine.  There  was  such  a 
crowd  in  the  Old  South  that  Warren  had  to  come  in 
by  the  window.  A  number  of  us  officers  were  on  the 
pulpit  stairs;  right  before  us  sat  Adams  and  Hancock — 
all  three  of  the  leaders  in  one  trap." 

"  But  the  general  sent  no  one  to  arrest  them?"  she 
enquired. 

"  No;  there  were  a  thousand  Whigs  there,  armed  with 
cudgels,  which  they  carry  everywhere  now,  like  gentle- 
men their  walking-sticks.  If  the  general  means  to  seize 
these  leaders  at  all,  he  probably  will  do  it  quietly.  War- 
ren referred  to  the  Massacre,  as  they  call  it,  and  then 
to  the  future,  more  boldly  than  I  deemed  possible! 
'Twas  like  a  threat,  and  in  our  very  teeth.  Moreover, 
when  I  consider  this  was  a  town  meeting,  held  against 
the  law,  these  people — "  He  paused  for  words  to  ex- 
press himself,  and  recalling  his  duties,  went  off  as  he 
came,  with  the  face  of  a  man  astonished. 

On  still  another  day  he  came  to  her  with  a  letter, 
which  he  put  into  her  hands.  "  Read  this,"  he  said. 
"  This  letter  i$  from  a  Virginian  to  one  of  our  officers. 
I  borrowed  it  for  you  to  see.  Read  especially  here  " — 
and  he  showed  her  where  to  look.  She  found  herself 


234  Tta  Colonials 

reading  with  great  interest,  until  she  came  to  a  word 
that  caused  her  to  cry  aloud. 

"  Bloodshed!  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered.  "  So  says  Ellery,  so  says 
Savage,  so  said  Doctor  Warren  the  other  day  in  his 
oration." 

Her  eyes  travelled  down  to  the  signature  at  the  foot 
of  the  letter.  "  Who  is  this  Mr.  George  Washington?  " 
she  asked. 

"  I  know  not.  But  do  you  note  what  he  says  of  the 
execrations  of  posterity  upon  those  who  are  instru- 
ments to  execute  the  king's  will?  I  am  such  an  instru- 
ment, Alice." 

To  lead  his  mind  away,  and  at  the  same  time  sat- 
isfy her  own,  she  turned  the  subject.  "  You  speak  of 
Frank,"  she  said.  "  Have  you  seen  him  lately?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  he  answered.  "  There  it  is  again,  Alice. 
How  much  there  is  between  him  and  us!  How  can  he 
come  here  often  when  he  meets  so  many  Tories?  Even 
you  cannot  make  them  forget  their  differences." 

"  Even  I!  "  she  sighed.  "  But  have  you  seen  Barbara 
recently?  " 

"  Is  an  officer,"  he  asked,  "  an  oppressor,  as  they  call 
us,  welcome  at  a  Whig  household?  " 

Although  she  could  not  tell  how  much  he  was  inter- 
ested in  Barbara,  she  saw  that  his  feelings  were  deeply 
stirred.  So  were  her  own.  Each  day  she  saw  widening 
between  him  and  Barbara,  between  her  and  Frank,  a 
greater  rift.  Tories  and  Whigs  drew  more  closely  into 
groups;  intercourse  was  more  and  more  difficult. 
Frank  alone,  of  all  the  Whigs,  came  to  the  Tudor 
parlour.  Invariably  he  found  visitors;  invariably  there 
was  awkwardness.  There  was  no  wonder  he  came  less 
and  less. 

But  while  so  many  in  Boston  were  learning  to  dread 


An  Armed  Truce  235 

the  future,  there  was  one  man  who  chafed  at  the  slow 
passage  of  time,  and  sought  to  hasten  the  progress  of 
events.  Captain  Sotheran,  eagerly  prodding  Doctor 
Church  to  new  disclosures,  holding  close  relations  with 
the  careworn  governor,  was  a  changed  man.  His  com- 
rades scarcely  knew  him,  wondering  at  his  new  and 
earnest  manner,  afraid  of  the  irritable  temper  that  he 
had  recently  developed.  A  devil  clung  to  his  neck  like 
a  burr,  pricked  all  his  energies,  and  brought  new 
schemes  constantly  to  his  brain. 

But  time  moved  slowly.  To  wait  for  a  secret  packet 
from  Doctor  Church  was  a  plague;  to  keep  up  his  inter- 
ests in  his  former  pursuit  was  almost  beyond  his  power. 
He  bore  each  bit  of  news  to  the  general  with  a  feverish 
desire  that  he  might  double  its  importance.  When  at 
last  his  mosaic  was  nearly  complete,  it  still  lacked  what 
was,  to  him,  the  most  valuable  piece. 

Gage  summoned  Sotheran  at  last  and  questioned  him 
closely.  "  There  are  surely  as  many  stores  as  you  say 
deposited  at  Concord? " 

"  There  you  have  the  memorandum,  a  fortnight  old. 
To-day  there  will  be  more,  rather  than  less." 

"  And  Adams  and  Hancock  are  at  the  Concord  Con- 
gress? Can  you  inform  me  where  they  will  lodge  on 
any  given  night?  " 

"  I  can." 

"  Warren  is  for  the  present  in  Boston?  " 

"  Usually." 

The  general,  thoughtful,  paced  up  and  down  the 
room.  "  Well,"  he  said  at  last,  pausing  suddenly, 
"  there  will  never  again  be  such  a  chance.  Listen,  Cap- 
tain Sotheran.  I  have  determined  to  send  out  in  a  few 
days  an  expedition  to  seize  the  Concord  stores.  You 
shall  go  on  ahead  quietly,  and  arrest  Hancock  and 
Adams.  Is  that  clear?  " 


236  The  Colonials 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  You  shall  have  a  picked  escort.  You  must  not  fail. 
What  is  it  you  wish  to  say?  " 

"  Warren?  "  asked  the  captain. 

"  He  shall  be  arrested  that  same  night." 

"  Could  I  not  stay  here  and  do  that — would  it  not  be 
better?" 

"  No!  "  an'swered  the  general  emphatically.  ;'  The 
other  is  the  more  delicate  task.  If  you  succeed,  Cap- 
tain, you  shall  be  well  rewarded." 

Sotheran's  face  flushed,  and  he  spoke  with  vigour. 
"  I  wish  only  one  reward.  Arrest  Ellery  as  well." 

The  general  regarded  him.  "  This  is  a  personal  mat- 
ter? "  he  enquired  with  hesitation.  "  I  feel  myself  forced 
to  say,  Captain  Sotheran — of  course  you  have  served  us 
well,  but — but  without  better  evidence ' 

"  You  shall  have  it,"  cried  the  captain.  "  Doctor 
Church  has  promised  it.  On  what  date  do  you  plan  this 
expedition,  sir?  " 

"  The  night  of  the  eighteenth." 


CHAPTER  XI 

SMOKING   THE   WHIG 

The  eighteenth  of  April  came — the  time  when  the 
people  of  England  and  of  her  thirteen  colonies,  mem- 
bers of  one  race  and  one  empire,  were  to  take  their 
separate  roads. 

America  had  done  all  in  its  power  to  avoid  the  final 
issue.  Towns,  Committees,  Colonies,  Conventions, 
Congresses,  had  in  turn  addressed  the  king,  the  Parlia- 
ment, and  the  English  people.  In  words  firm  and  re- 
spectful they  had  urged  consideration  of  their  rights;  in 
acts  sometimes  bold,  sometimes  forbearing,  they  had 
indicated  their  desire  to  accept-  any  compromise  that 
would  not  curtail  their  charters.  They  had  waited,  and 
not  been  heeded;  had  restrained  themselves,  and  were 
cried  upon  with  threats. 

The  colonies  were  exasperated.  Petty  oppressions 
and  real  hardships;  threats  at  their  liberties,  more  dear 
than  their  lives;  rumours  of  greater  wrongs  to  come;  the 
certainty  at  last  driven  home  of  the  unyielding  temper 
of  the  king — these  had  combined  to  make  the  people 
ready  for  the  struggle. 

Thus  amid  rumours  and  menaces  the  last  day  came 
of  peace.  All  was  ready  for  the  blow.  An  English  king 
was  again  to  be  shown  that  Englishmen  cannot  be  gov- 
erned by  force. 

On  the  evening  of  the  eighteenth  day  of  April  there 
was  an  assembly  in  the  parlours  of  Lady  Harriet  Leland. 


238  The  Colonials 

The  usual  fine  ladies  and  gentlemen  gathered  at  the 
appointed  hour;  Dickie  and  Anthony  arrived,  curious 
and  excited;  officers  came  in  their  bright  uniforms. 
There  Mistress  Caroline  Oliver  came,  determined  to 
outshine  her  hostess,  as  one  lamp  another;  and  thither 
came  Alice  Tudor,  in  relation  to  them  both  as  was  the 
moon. 

She  was  escorted  by  Frank  Ellery,  whom  a  note  had 
summoned  to  her  service,  who  was  delighted  to  be  with 
her,  yet  wished  himself  away.  Much  was  doing  in  the 
town;  there  was  frequent  occasion  for  watchfulness,  for 
consultation,  for  despatching  warning  notes.  Why  had 
all  grenadiers  and  light  infantry  been  free  from  exer- 
cise the  last  few  days?  Why  were  the  boats  of  the 
men-of-war  moored  together  near  the  foot  of  the  Com- 
mon? But  Alice's  face  was  a  pleasure  to  his  eyes,  her 
voice  a  caress  to  his  ear. 

Yet  a  silence  fell  between  them;  their  mouths  were 
stopped  by  their  thoughts.  "  There  is  nothing  to  say," 
thought  Frank  to  himself.  "  Either  nothing  or  too 
much."  A  weary  consciousness  of  public  distresses, 
the  certainty  that  terrible  things  were  bound  to  ensue, 
complications  in  themselves  dreadful  enough,  without 
being  made  worse,  weighed  upon  him.  A  man  who 
habitually  repressed  himself,  hitherto  absolutely  self- 
reliant,  he  had  not  yet  come  to  the  point  where  to  un- 
burden was  a  demand  of  his  nature,  consolation  a  need 
of  his  soul. 

But  Alice  listened  for  words,  even  commonplaces. 
She  saw  him  so  seldom  and  thought  of  him  so  much, 
knew  by  sympathy  so  many  of  his  cares,  that  it  was  im- 
possible for  her  not  to  desire  closer  intimacy.  Grati- 
tude and  admiration,  the  one  undying  and  the  other 
constantly  growing;  with  them  a  natural  and  deep  re- 
gret that  she  and  he  were  so  separated,  daily  worked  to 


An  Armed  Truce  239 

maintain  and  increase  her  secret  affection.  Besides, 
what  did  he  think  of  her — or  did  he  think  of  her  at  all? 
The  longer  they  walked,  the  more  she  wished  the  silence 
to  be  broken.  But  they  reached  the  house  without  an- 
other word,  and  were  admitted  to  the  anteroom. 

There,  before  they  could  separate  to  go  to  the  dress- 
ing-rooms, she  turned  to  him.  "  Do  you  know  what  I 
have  been  thinking?  " 

"  Tell  me,"  he  said. 

She  stood  in  the  light  of  many  candles;  a  white  scarf 
was  over  her  head,  beneath  which  her  curling  hair 
and  her  eyes,  at  that  moment  earnest,  were  doubly 
fine.  As  she  spoke  she  unclasped  her  wrap,  and  it  re- 
vealed her  figure,  all  in  creamy  white.  She  was  a  pic- 
ture, almost  a  vision.  Admiration  seized  him.  She 
saw,  and  it  confused  her.  She  answered  with  a  charm- 
ing blush. 

"  Just  as  we  reached  the  door,"  she  said,  "  a  memory 
came  to  me.  In  the  deep  woods,  upon  the  snow,  you 
and  I  were  walking  together — on  snowshoes,  Frank, 
in  our  clothes  of  fur  and  dressed  deerskin.  You  bore 
your  axe  and  gun;  I  was  carrying  a  sable  taken  from 
the  trap.  Such  cold,  such  silence,  and  such  barrenness! 
Can  you  remember?  " 

"  Can  I  remember?  "  he  repeated,  a  fire  kindling  in 
his  eyes. 

"  What  a  difference!  "  she  said  softly. 

"What  a  difference!"  he  echoed.  A  difference  in- 
deed. Were  they  two  even  the  same?  Could  this 
glorious  creature  once  have. been  that  little  girl?  Was 
he  once  a  woodsman,  slayer  of  beasts  and  bearer  of 
burdens?  Had  they,  who  stood  in  this  handsome  room, 
with  waxen  floors  and  panelled  walls  ablaze  with  lights, 
truly  lived  in  that  snowbound  wilderness,  in  a  little  hut? 


240  The  Colonials 

— A  shadow  came  between  them,  and  a  figure  in  scarlet 
bowed  before  Alice. 

"May  I  conduct  you  to  Lady  Harriet?"  It  was 
Sotheran's  voice. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  returned.  "  But  I  must  lay  off  my 
wrap,  and  Mr.  Ellery  is  here  to  assist  me.  I  will  not 
trouble  you,  Captain."  She  gave  Frank  one  glance  as 
she  turned  to  the  door  of  the  dressing-room.  Yes,  he 
realised,  she  is  the  same.  The  fire  in  his  eyes  be- 
came a  flame.  He,  too,  turned  to  lay  aside  his  cloak, 
and  Sotheran,  unnoticed,  bit  his  lip  and  returned  to  the 
reception-room. 

The  glow  of  Frank's  flame  remained  to  warm  him. 
He  met  unmoved  the  cold  glances  of  officers  in  the 
dressing-room,  as  they  surveyed  his  homespun.  "  What 
does  the  Whig  here,"  muttered  Harriman  to  de  Ber- 
niere,  "this  night  of  all?"  He  slipped  out  to  warn 
Sotheran. 

"  I  know,"  said  Sotheran,  "  I  know."  His  eye  was  on 
the  floor,  and  he  tried  to  conceal  the  anger  in  his  face. 

"  Yes,  and  Doctor  Church  is  here,"  went  on  Harri- 
man. "Two  Whigs.  If  they  should  suspect!" 

"  Leave  Church,"  said  Sotheran.  "  He  will  be  busy 
with  the  punchbowl  and  the  ladies.  But  we  must  get 
Ellery  out.  Harriman,  do  you  as  I  say,  you  and  de 
Berniere." 

Alice  and  Frank  entered  the  reception-room.  The 
company  buzzed  at  their  entrance,  and  there  was  a 
slight  general  movement  toward  Alice.  Sotheran  saw 
Dickie,  Anthony,  and  full  half  of  the  officers  and  Tories, 
turn  in  her  direction.  Even  Harriman  felt  the  a^trac- 
tion. 

"How  she  stirs  a  room!"  the  lieutenant  exclaimed. 
"Egad!  I  must  pay  my  respects."  He  was  starting 
forward  when  Sotheran  caught  him  by  the  sleeve. 


"  You  are  forgetting,"  reminded  the  captain  imperi- 
ously. "  See  Ormsby,  de  Berniere,  and  one  or  two 
more,  but  not  Tudor.  Bid  them  be  ready  to  smoke 
the  Whig.  You  must  give  me  your  speech  that  you 
made  before  the  Congress  of  Officers." 

"Really?"  asked  Harriman. 

"  Yes,  and  Berniere  his.    Go  tell  him  so." 

Alice  was  bringing  Frank  forward,  almost  as  one 
introduces  a  stranger.  Tories  and  officers  pressed  up 
to  speak  with  her,  but  none  greeted  Frank.  Displeased, 
she  paused  a  moment  to  make  sure.  A  little  knot  of 
soldiers  and  civilians  gathered  at  once  in  her  front, 
another  at  her  right  side.  At  her  left  stood  Frank 
alone,  although  he  was  acquainted  with  many.  Im- 
patiently she  swept  a  way  with  one  movement  of  her 
fan,  and  with  head  erect,  her  eyes  steel-blue,  led  Frank 
to  where  Lady  Harriet  was  standing. 

Whispers  rose  behind  them,  to  be  immediately 
stilled.  Their  voices  were  heard  distinctly  in  the  room. 
"  So  glad  to  see  you,  dear,"  exclaimed  Lady  Harriet. 
"And  you  have  brought  the  truant!  Mr.  Ellery,  I  am 
pleased  to  welcome  you." 

"  And  I,  madam,"  he  returned,  "  most  flattered  by 
your  invitation." 

Tudor  stepped  up  to  Alice,  and  drew  her  aside  to 
speak  with  her.  Lady  Harriet,  embarrassed  to  be  alone 
with  the  Whig,  and  impatiently  signalling  to  those  be- 
hind Frank  to  move,  go  away,  do  anything  but  stand 
and  stare,  was  progressing  to  the  easiest  topic,  the 
weather,  when  a  voice  rose  in  the  quiet  of  the  room, 
and  she  stopped  to  listen. 

It  was  Harriman's  voice,  in  a  tone  of  pompous  grav- 
ity. He  was  standing  in  a  circle  of  officers,  who  were 
evidently  prepared  for  applause.  "My  ever-honoured 
fellow-citizens,"  he  had  begun;  "  it  is  with  a  high  sense 


242  The  Colonials 

of  my  greatness  that  I  venture  to  address  you.  Obe- 
dient to  the  calls  of  my  country  at  all  times,  I  appear 
before  you  to  offer  the  feeble  efforts  of  a  dishonest 
mind — "  Those  around  cried  "  Hear!  "  Frank  flushed 
and  bit  his  lip.  It  was  a  burlesque  of  Warren's  recent 
oration. 

"  The  hearts  of  Britons  and  Americans,"  went  on 
Harriman,  "  now  burn  with  jealousy  and  rage.  So  be 
it!  So  may  it  ever  be!  The  arms  of  George,  our  right- 
ful king,  are  extended  toward  us  with  sympathy  and 
love;  but  shall  we  accept  his  kindness?  All  gracious 
heaven  avert  it!  " 

He  paused  and  glanced  fiercely  around,  pouting  his 
cheeks.  Laughter  arose  from  his  circle,  and  spurred 
him  to  proceed.  But  Lady  Harriet  interrupted. 

"Oh,  fie!"  she  cried.  "Fie,  Mr.  Harriman,  desist! 
'Tis  far  from  amusing.  Gentlemen,  the  tables  are  set 
for  cards." 

"  But  Lady  Harriet,"  put  in  Ensign  de  Berniere,  "  let 
me  tell  you  of  another  speech.  You  know  I  was  up 
country  scarce  a  month  ago " 

"In  a  countryman's  dress,  Mr.  de  Berniere?"  asked 
Alice  coldly. 

"  Eh,  yes,"  he  said.  "  A  most  excellent  disguise. 
Few  knew  us.  At  a  tavern  on  the  road,  as  we  ate,  we 
watched  a  company  of  militia  exercise.  Oh,  'twas  ex- 
cellent! Such  uniforms  and  equipment,  and  such  order! 
That  fellow  Falstaff  scarce  had  worse.  And  the  captain 
made  a  speech  at  the  end.  '  Fellow-citizens,'  he  said — 
now  I'll  give  you  his  manner.  '  Fellow-citizens,  since  it 
may  come  abaout  that  we  meet  the  British,  I'll  tell  ye 
what  we  do.  Bravery  we  have,  coolness  we  must  culti- 
vate, an'  also,  fellow-citizens,  patience.  Stand  when 
ye  see  them  coming,  wait  for  them  to  fire  fust,  then  take 
good  aim,  and  when  ye've  fired,  charge.  Naow.  re- 


An  Armed  Truce  243 

member,  friends,  what  our  old  men  tell  us  of  Cape 
Breton  and  Louisburg.  What  we  did  then  we  can  do 
agin,  an'  if  the  rig'lars  weren't  much  withaout  us,  they 
can't  be  much  agin  us.  And  with  Putnam  and  Briga- 
dier Ward  to  lead  us,  we'll  do  as  ever  our  fathers  did.'  " 

His  voice  was  drowned  by  laughter. 

"  Very  good,  Mr.  de  Berniere,"  said  Lady  Harriet 
dryly,  when  it  had  ceased.  "  Your  talents  are  scarce 
excelled  by  those  of  Mr.  Harriman.  But  the 
tables " 

Sotheran  had  been  standing  at  one  side.  Now  he 
put  in  his  word.  "  Have  you  heard,  Lady  Harriet,"  he 
asked,  "  that  the  Whigs  are  leaving  town?  " 

Lady  Harriet,  none  too  well  able  to  manage  an  emer- 
gency, involuntarily  looked  at  Frank.  Instantly  the 
situation  changed;  Frank  was  brought  into  the  conver- 
sation, and  the  answer  was  for  him  to  make.  He  saw 
Sotheran's  eye  suddenly  light  as  at  success;  he  knew 
that  all  were  listening. 

"  They  are,"  he  said. 

"And  can  you  tell  me  why?"  asked  Sotheran. 

"  So  many  Tories,"  was  the  reply,  "  are  coming  in, 
that  the  Whigs  are  crowded  out." 

A  movement  among  the  listeners  acknowledged  the 
retort,  and  Harriman  spoke  sharply.  "Eh!"  he  de- 
manded. "  Is  it  not  that  the  Whigs  are  frightened?  " 

"  Come,  come,"  interrupted  a  voice,  and  Doctor 
Church  pushed  into  the  circle.  He  bore  a  glass  of 
punch  in  his  hand,  but  none  ever  saw  the  doctor  more 
than  flushed.  "  Gentlemen,  here  we  are  neither  Whig 
nor  Tory,  but  all  friends.  Let  us  laugh — let  us  drink!  " 

"Drink?"  repeated  Harriman.  "By  all  means! 
Glasses,  Ormsby,  de  Berniere!"  They  turned  to  the 
table  bearing  the  punchbowl,  and  took  glasses  from  the 


244  The  Colonials 

servants.  "  Here,  Mr.  Ellery,  is  a  glass.  Let  us  have 
a  toast.  Sotheran,  what  shall  it  be?  " 

Danger  was  not  averted;  it  thrilled  in  the  air.  As 
Sotheran  stepped  forward,  Doctor  Church  found  no 
words,  and  Lady  Harriet,  afraid  and  nervous,  had  no 
further  thought  of  stopping  the  proceedings.  Sotheran, 
glass  in  hand,  faced  Frank. 

"  You  say,"  he  asked,  "  the  Whigs  are  but  crowded 
out.  Sure  they  hope  to  return?  " 

"  Surely,"  answered  Frank.  "  When  times  are 
quieter." 

"  Then  drink  the  toast  with  me,  Mr.  Ellery.  Success 
to  all  the  wishes  of  those  who  next  leave  town!  " 

Frank  glanced  along  the  line.  He  saw  a  sneer  on 
Sotheran's  face,  a  smile  on  Harriman's,  and  on  Tudor's 
an  expression  undecipherable.  He  raised  his  glass 
"  Success!  "  he  said,  and  sipped  the  wine. 

"  He  has  drunk  it ! "  exclaimed  some  one  from  be- 
hind. 

"  And  you,  Doctor  Church?  "  asked  Sotheran. 

"Oh — success!"  responded  the  doctor  quickly,  and 
likewise  sipped. 

Sotheran's  sneer  showed  enjoyment  as  he  glanced 
from  the  doctor  to  Frank.  "  This  next,"  he  said,  hold- 
ing up  his  glass.  "  To  the  disputed  courage  of  the 
Yankees " 

He  paused  for  Frank  to  repeat  it,  but  got  no  answer. 
He  went  on:  " — The  undisputed  courage  of  the 
British " 

"  Fie,  Henry!  "  cried  Tudor. 

"  — And  to  a  tug  of  war!  " 

There  was  a  moment  of  breathless  quiet,  as  all  present 
looked  at  Frank.  He  felt  the  eyes  upon  him.  There 
are  moments  when  one  cannot  think,  yet  must  act. 
Then,  action  is  the  result  of  the  combined  instincts 


An  Armed  Truce  245 

resulting  from  life's  training.  He  turned  and  set  down 
his  glass  upon  the  table. 

"  I  cannot  drink  your  toast/'  he  said. 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Doctor  Church.  "  Fie,  Captain  Sotli- 
eran,  to  wish  war!  " 

Frank  turned  to  Lady  Harriet.  "  I  must  take  my 
leave  of  you,"  he  said.  "  I  am  sorry  that  my  presence 
has  caused  discomfort."  Embarrassed,  she  made  no 
effort  to  detain  him,  and  he  went  to  Alice's  side. 

"  Good  night,"  he  said. 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  eyes  where  anger  and 
sympathy  contended.  "  I  am  sorry,"  she  said,  "  that 
I  have  exposed  you  to  this." 

"  Think  not  of  it,"  he  responded.  "  I  am  repaid  to 
have  seen  so  much  of  you.  Well  paid,  Alice."  His 
voice  warmed,  and  he  gave  her  a  glance  that  brought 
the  colour  to  her  cheeks.  "  Do  not  suppose,"  he  said, 
"  that  I  forget  those  other  days,  that  other  life.  Never 
dream  that  I  forget!  Good-by." 

"  I  cannot  ask  you  to  remain,"  she  answered. 
"  Good-by." 

He  lifted  her  hand  to  his  lips,  looked  once  more  into 
her  eyes,  then  turned  away.  He  walked  erect  through 
the  group  of  officers,  and  left  the  room.  "Egad!" 
muttered  Harriman  in  the  silence,  thinking  of  their  first 
meeting  in  the  tavern  months  before.  "  Tis  the  second 
magnificent  exit  I  have  seen  that  fellow  make." 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE   EDGE   OF   THE   VOLCANO 

Doctor  Church  accompanied  Frank  into  the  street. 
He  put  his  hand  on  the  younger  man's  arm.  "  I  see 
you  are  stirred  at  what  has  happened,"  he  said.  "  When 
you  are  older  you  will  take  things  easier.  Twas  their 
folly,  that  was  all.  But  for  form's  sake  I  leave  the 
house  with  you." 

But  Frank  was  thinking.  "  Doctor  Church,"  he 
asked  abruptly;  "  did  you  notice  that  those  were  in- 
fantry officers,  yet  all  wore  spurs?  " 

"Eh,  no!" 

"  Tudor,"  mused  Frank,  "  wore  spurs — Harriman, 
Sotheran,  de  Berniere.  Doctor  Church,  I  am  convinced 
that  mischief  is  afoot  to-night." 

"  A-horse,  more  likely,"  laughed  the  doctor.  "  Mr. 
Ellery,  there  is  an  ordinary  close  at  hand,  whose 
wine " 

"  Pardon  me,  Doctor,"  interrupted  Frank.  "  Listen!" 
They  listened  to  sounds  unusual  in  the  night.  "  Surely 
that  is  the  tramp  of  troops  upon  the  Common." 

"  Never,"  returned  the  doctor.  "  Tis  but  a  rumbling 
cart.  Surely  these  fellows  are  too  indolent  to  lose  their 
sleep.  Come,  Mr.  Ellery,  a  glass  of  wine  with  me." 

"  I  must  investigate,"  said  Frank.  "  Come  you  with 
me,  Doctor."  But  the  doctor  protested  he  had  work  to 
do,  and  they  separated. 

But   at   Lady   Harriet's,    where    still   was    awkward 


An  Armed  Truce  247 

silence,  Alice  stood  imperious,  and  looked  coldly  upon 
Captain  Sotheran,  who  bowed  before  her. 

"  Forgive  you?"  she  asked.  "And  for  what  reason? 
Mr.  Ellery  was  my  guest." 

"  And  mine,"  added  Lady  Harriet,  coming  to  her 
side. 

He  bowed  again  to  her  respectfully,  but  with  firm 
aspect.  "  I  am  truly  sorry,"  he  said,  "  that  I  was  forced 
to  be  rude." 

"  Forced?  "  repeated  Alice. 

"  Briefly,"  he  explained,  without  a  smile,  "  twas  a 
military  necessity."  Alice's  face  was  unchanged.  "  This 
night  an  expedition  starts  for  the  country,  and  we  must 
presently  take  our  leave  to  go  with  it."  He  saw  that 
she  grew  pale. 

"An  expedition!"  exclaimed  Lady  Harriet,  clasping 
her  hands  with  pleasure. 

"  Therefore,"  finished  Sotheran,  "  lest  Mr.  Ellery 
should  suspect,  we  got  him  from  the  house."  He 
seemed  to  be  addressing  both  the  ladies,  but  all  his  at- 
tention was  on  Alice. 

She  turned  to  her  brother,  suddenly  alarmed. 
"George,"  she  demanded,  "do  you  go?" 

He  came  to  her  uneasily.  "  The  general's  orders," 
he  said. 

She  was  still  pale.  "  I  must  go  home,"  she  said. 
"  Lady  Harriet,  I  cannot  stay  here.  George,  will  you 
escort  me  home?  " 

He  hesitated  and  looked  at  Sotheran,  who  answered 
for  him  with  regret.  "  We  must  leave  here  in  a  few 
minutes.  We  ride  in  advance  of  the  expedition,  on  spe- 
cial duty." 

She  looked  about  the  listening  circle,  where  all  eyes 
were  on  her  face,  so  eloquent  of  distress.  "  Gentle- 


248  The  Colonials 

men,"  she  asked  sadly,  "  do  you  know  what  is  to  come 
of  this?" 

"  Surely  nothing,  Alice,"  said  her  brother  eagerly. 
"  'Twill  be  swift  and  successful ;  I  understand  we  shall 
be  gone  scarce  twelve  hours.  The  Yankees  will  be 
rubbing  their  eyes,  while  we  shall  be  finished." 

"  They  are  no  stupid  peasantry,"  she  responded. 
"  But  may  you  be  as  rapid  as  you  hope,  and  meet  no 
opposition.  Dickie,  will  you  bring  me  home?  Lady 
Harriet — gentlemen — good  night." 

Sotheran  approached  her  as  she  reached  the  door. 
"  I  am  forgiven?"  he  asked. 

"  You  have  disarmed  all  anger,"  she  responded.  She 
was  sad  and  thoughtful,  and  passed  without  more  words. 

Lady  Harriet  stood  alone,  and  gestured  in  despair. 
"Three  gone,  and  so  many  more  to  go!  What  is  to 
become  of  my  party?  I  cannot  forgive  you." 

The  officers  pressed  around  her,  Sotheran,  Harri- 
man,  and  Ormsby  foremost  and  obsequious.  "  A  mili- 
tary necessity,"  exclaimed  Harriman.  "  Think  of  the 
occasion."  "  Oh,"  cried  they  all,  "  Lady  Harriet,  for- 


give 


"  Well,"  she  yielded,  flattered,  "  I  forgive." 

"  Mr.  Ellery's  toast,  then,  before  we  go,"  proclaimed 
Sotheran.  "  Glasses  all  round!  Punch,  there!  Are  all 
ready?  Success  to  those  who  next  leave  the  town!  " 

They  drank  the  toast  amid  triumphant  laughter,  gayly 
forecasting  a  holiday  march.  Then  the  officers  who 
were  to  go  took  their  leave.  In  the  street  Sotheran, 
bidding  his  party  mount  and  wait  for  him,  hurried  to 
his  quarters.  There  he  found  waiting  a  cloaked  and 
muffled  figure,  in  the  upper  hallway  of  the  house,  out- 
side his  chamber  door. 

"Is  it  you?"  he  asked,  peering  in  the  dim  light. 
"  Have  you  the  papers,  Doctor?  There  was  no  chance 


An  Armed  Truce  249 

at  Lady  Harriet's  to  give  them  me.  Come  inside."  He 
threw  the  door  open. 

Doctor  Church  followed  Sotheran  into  the  room.  It 
was  the  first  time  he  had  been  there;  he  was  uneasy. 
"  No  names,  for  God's  sake!  "  he  cautioned.  A  candle 
was  burning  in  the  room,  and  the  doctor,  looking  about 
him,  saw  a  form  upon  the  floor.  "Who  is  that?"  he 
asked. 

Sotheran  surveyed  it  by  means  of  the  light.  "  My 
servant,"  he  said;  "  in  one  of  his  drunken  fits.  A  boy 
I  got  of  Ellery — a  keepsake  I  am  preserving  in  alcohol." 
He  smiled  at  the  grim  pleasantry.  "  Thus  he  lies  half 
the  day." 

"  Will  he  not  hear?  "  asked  the  doctor  anxiously. 

"  He  is  like  a  log,"  replied  Sotheran.  "  A  few  glasses 
of  wine,  and  you  can  discuss  all  secrets  before  him. 
We  have  thrust  him  with  needles;  he  cries  out,  but  is 
too  sodden  to  wake.  See,  I  will  prove  it." 

He  held  the  candle  over  the  boy,  and  tilted  the  hot 
grease  onto  his  cheek.  Roger  squirmed  quickly, 
groaned,  and  covered  his  face  with  his  hand.  But  his 
eyes  did  not  open,  and  presently  he  was  again  quiet. 
The  captain  laughed. 

"Do  you  see?"  he  asked.     "Now,  the  letter." 

The  doctor  handed  him  a  folded  sheet  of  paper,  with 
a  broken  seal.  The  captain  opened  it,  and  read  with 
sparkling  eyes. 

"  Tis  good,"  he  said.  "  Nay,  friend,  'tis  perfect. 
Now,  this  other  thing — where  sleep  Adams  and  Han- 
cock to-night? " 

"  At  the  house  of  Mr.  Clark,  in  Lexington." 

"  The  house  of  Mr.  Clark,  in  Lexington,"  repeated 
the  captain.  "You  are  sure?  Good!  Then  payment 
is  due."  He  turned  and  reached  into  a  cupboard. 
"  Will  you  take  the  whole  five  hundred  now?  " 


250  The  Colonials 

"  All — all,"  responded  the  doctor  eagerly.  "  I  can 
carry  in  gold  what  a  warehouse  porter  could  in  iron. 
Give  me  it  all."  He  took  two  heavy  bags  from  the  cap- 
tain and  thrust  them  inside  his  cloak. 

"  Now  go  quickly,"  said  the  captain.  "  I  have  more 
to  do."  He  lighted  the  doctor  out,  and  shut  the  door 
behind  him. 

Elsewhere  in  the  town,  at  that  moment,  Frank  Ellery 
was  searching  for  Revere,  the  silversmith,  leader  of 
the  Whig  artisans  and  most  trusted  messenger  of  the 
patriots,  to  summon  him  to  Warren's  house.  But  Cap- 
tain Sotheran  sat  at  his  desk,  and  quickly  wrote  a  note. 
"Tabb!"  he  called,  when  it  was  finished.  "Tabb! 
Where  are  you?" 

The  servant  answered  sleepily  from  the  adjoining 
chamber :  "  Here,  sir."  He  entered,  frowsy.  "  I've  just 
been  dozing." 

"  Just  been  listening,"  corrected  his  scornful  master. 
"  Here."  As  he  spoke  he  enclosed  Doctor  Church's 
letter  in  his  own,  and  sealed  the  packet.  "  As  soon  as 
I  have  gone,  take  this  to  the  general.  D'ye  hear?  " 
He  rose. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

Sotheran  approached  the  servant  and  looked  him  in 
the  eye.  "  Tabb,"  he  said,  "  do  you  remember  our 
little  mishap  on  Lake  Huron?  "  Though  his  words  were 
careless,  his  eye  glittered  with  anger  at  the  recollection. 

"  Surely,  sir,"  said  Tabb  quickly. 

"  Does  Mr.  Ellery  still  make  you  shiver  when  you 
see  him?  " 

"  A  little,  sir." 

Sotheran  tapped  the  letter  in  his  hand.  "  Here, 
Tabb,"  he  said,  "  is  what  will  make  him  forever  unable 
to  harm  us  more.  Prison,  Tabb;  a  voyage  to  England, 
a  trial  in  London,  the  gallows,  and  the  grave."  He 


An  Armed  Truce  251 

snarled  out  the  words  with  delight.  "  That  is  what  this 
letter  means  for  Mr.  Ellery." 

"Good,  sir!" 

Sotheran  laid  the  letter  on  the  desk.  "  Take  the 
saddle  bags,  and  come  with  me.  D'ye  know  what  the 
bags  contain,  Tabb?  Cords  for  tying  prisoners.  They 
will  soon  be  on  the  sanctified  arms  of  Adams  and 
Hancock." 

"  Eh?  "  cried  Tabb,  astonished. 

"  So  soon  as  I  have  gone,  come  back  for  the  letter. 
Deliver  it  at  once  to  the  general.  Come."  He  went 
to  the  door,  then  paused.  "  Finished!  "  he  cried  exult- 
ingly.  "  By  heaven,  finished!  Now,  Ellery,  press  your 
suit  from  prison!  Tell  of  me  what  you  will;  none  will 
believe  a  traitor!  " 

He  went  out  with  Tabb. 

They  locked  the  door  behind.  There  was  silence  in 
the  room  as  the  two  went  down  the  stairs;  then  the 
house  resounded  with  the  clang  of  the  front  door.  In 
the  chamber  the  candle  was  still  burning.  The  letter, 
shone  white  beneath  it  upon  the  desk;  the  light  cast 
swaying  shadows  into  corners.  In  the  room  began  the 
sound  of  hurried  breathing;  then,  presently,  of  some- 
thing moving. 

Roger  stirred  on  the  floor,  and  sat  up.  He  listened; 
he  searched  the  room  with  his  eyes.  Next,  he  rose 
quietly,  cautiously,  to  his  feet.  He  stood  for  a  mo- 
ment, then  stepped  on  tiptoe  to  the  desk,  walking  with 
certainty,  requiring  no  support.  He  took  up  the  letter, 
and  stood  listening.  Then  he  broke  the  seal. 

The  outer  letter  was  the  Captain's.  "  General — I 
send  enclosed  the  evidence  for  which  you  wait.  Both 
Warren  and  Ellery  sleep  in  Boston  this  night,  and  can 
be  seized  as  planned.  I  will  not  fail  to  fulfil  my  duty 


252  The  Colonials 

in  Lexington. — Henry  Sotheran."  Roger  laid  down  the 
letter,  and  opened  the  other,  somewhat  creased  and 
rubbed.  He  recognised  Frank's  writing. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Adams,"  the  letter  ran,  "  upon  direc- 
tion of  Doctor  Warren,  I  went  to  Cambridge  and  for- 
warded to  a  safe  place  the  three  cannon  which  were 
there  concealed.  These  were  the  ones,  as  you  enquire, 
which  I  caused  to  be  removed  from  the  Charlestown 
battery  some  months  ago.  Your  directions  in  regard 
to  the  other  stores  I  had  already  forestalled  upon  my 
own  responsibility.  As  to  the  cannon  which  were  spiked 
by  the  man-of-warsmen,  I  am  planning  with  Doctor 
Warren " 

Roger  thrust  the  letter  into  the  flame  of  the  candle. 
It  caught  fire,  blazed  up,  and  the  boy  dropped  it  on  the 
hearth,  watching  it  till  it  was  but  a  cinder.  Still  it  pre- 
served its  shape;  characters  could  be  seen  upon  it;  he 
knelt,  and  rubbed  it  to  a  powder  between  his  palms. 
Then  he  rose,  folded  once  more  the  other  letter,  sealed 
it  with  the  seal  that  still  lay  upon  the  desk,  and  placed 
it  where  it  was  before.  As  a  key  rattled  in  the  door 
below,  he  cast  himself  once  more  down  in  his  corner. 
Tabb  came  up  the  stairs  and  into  the  room,  took  the 
letter,  thrust  it  in  his  belt,  blew  out  the  candle,  and  de- 
parted. Roger  lay  where  he  was  so  long  that  at  last 
he  fell  asleep. 

Midnight  and  silence  settled  over  the  town.  The  band 
of  officers  was  gone;  the  troops  were  gone.  Gone,  also, 
were  single  figures,  unseen  in  the  night.  But  while  the 
soft  breeze  breathed  peace  upon  the  sleeping  houses, 
Alice  Tudor  leaned  from  her  chamber  window,  anxious, 
unable  to  sleep.  All  lights  in  the  houses  were  out,  save 
that  in  Doctor  Warren's  study,  across  the  way,  a  lamp 
still  burned.  She  saw  shadows  moving  on  the  shade, 
and  her  apprehensions  increased.  Across  the  river  the 


An  Armed  Truce  253 

troops,  which  were  to  have  accomplished  their  mission 
so  swiftly,  delayed  upon  the  Cambridge  marshes,  and 
in  imagination  she  heard  the  sound  of  signal  guns  and 
the  galloping  of  horses  in  the  country  lanes,  conveying 
their  messages  over  leagues  of  country. 


Book  *Four 


CONCORD  TIGHT  O 
CHARLESTOWN  BATTLE 

•***=**•  Chapter  One  ~<="~< 
The  Nineteenth  of  April 

>oo<>o<>cxcx>cx><x>oe><>o<><>< 

HE  dawn  was  as  pure  and  as  warm 
as  a  morning  in  June.  No  cloud 
obscured  the  sun  as  it  rose  on  that 
day;  so  fine  and  so  calm  was  the 
hour,  so  happy  the  face  of  the  earth, 
that  the  words  of  the  patriot-seer 
had  a  double  meaning.  What  a 
glorious  morning  was  that ! 

In  a  small  garden  in  Boston  the  birds  awakened,  inno- 
cent and  sweet.  The  first  enquiring  note  from  the  lilac 
was  answered  by  one  from  the  cherry-tree,  sleepily, 
brokenly.  One  by  one  the  birds  roused  themselves  as 
the  light  grew  clear.  Over  in  the  corner  a  robin  at  last 
withdrew  his  head  from  his  wing,  shook  himself,  preened 
himself;  then  with  a  flirt  he  sprang  from  the  bush, 
sailed  the  few  yards  to  the  trellis  by  the  window,  and  in 
clear  cadence  called  his  mate. 

Alice  Tudor  waked  from  her  dream,  and  lay  with 
dewy  eyes  and  rosy  cheeks,  its  spell  still  upon  her.  Her 
brother  had  returned,  dusty  and  tired,  but  cheerful.  He 


258  The  Colonials 

pinched  her  cheek,  told  her  the  humours  of  the  march, 
and  laughed  at  her  fears  of  the  evening.  The  country 
had  been  asleep;  scarcely  a  farmer  had  looked  out  to 
scowl  at  them.  The  provincial  stores  were  destroyed; 
now  could  there  never  be  war.  She  smiled  as  she  lay, 
and  was  happy. 

Then  the  robin  again  called  his  mate.  The  little  sound 
smote  on  her  heartstrings;  as  at  the  note  of  a  drum  her 
happiness  fled,  and  trembling,  she  sat  upright.  That 
was  a  dream — dreams  go  by  contraries! 

She  heard  steps  in  the  street,  and  her  ear,  long  since 
well  trained,  took  note  of  them.  They  were  the  hasty 
footsteps  of  two  people — one  heavy  and  lumbering,  the 
other  lighter  and  more  springy,  but  both  firm.  They 
ceased,  and  she  heard  the  sound  of  a  brass  knocker 
rapping.  Messengers,  she  knew  at  once,  for  Doctor 
Warren.  She  went  to  the  window,  with  beating  heart, 
and  drew  the  blind  a  little  way. 

There  were  Frank  Ellery  and  a  dusty  countryman, 
waiting  at  Doctor  Warren's  door.  She  drew  back 
quickly.  But  knowing  Frank's  face  so  well — too  well, 
she  often  told  herself — she  had  read  in  his  profile  all 
she  needed  to  know.  Calm  and  resolved — disaster! 

And  then,  in  ten  minutes  more,  she  heard  them  go 
away,  the  doctor  with  them.  There  had  been  a  con- 
sultation at  the  door;  she  had  heard  one  word — Fight! 
As  they  went,  she  drew  the  blind  once  more,  and 
watched  them  go. 

Thus,  with  the  disappearance  of  Frank  from  her  sight, 
and  with  the  word  "  fight  "  in  her  ears,  began  for  Alice 
that  memorable  day.  How  it  would  end — either  the 
day  or  the  epoch  which  the  day  began — Alice,  perceiv- 
ing the  direful  situation,  but  no  more  able  than  the  very 
stones  to  read  the  future,  could  not  even  hazard  a 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle     259 

guess.  With  a  little  gasping  sob,  her  hands  pressed 
to  her  heart,  she  turned  from  the  window. 

The  town  waked  to  whispers  of  ill  omen.  For  a  while 
uncertainty  buzzed  in  the  streets;  it  was  said  that  mes- 
sengers were  coming  frequently,  both  to  the  governor 
and  the  selectmen.  It  became  known  that  the  Prov- 
ince House  was  as  a  beehive;  that  the  governor  and 
his  confidants  were  anxious.  At  street  corners,  at  gar- 
den fences,  and  at  front  gates,  people  stood  eagerly 
enquiring.  Then  rumour,  gaining  strength  and  size, 
stalked  through  the  town.  Out  in  the  country  men  had 
been  killed! 

The  name  of  Concord  was  on  all  men's  lips — Con- 
cord, where  the  Provincial  Congress  sat;  where  were, 
as  was  whispered,  the  colony's  military  stores.  Could 
it  be  that  that  name  of  peace  meant  the  beginning  of 
war?  Then  came  another  name,  passed  hurriedly  fr®m 
mouth  to  mouth — Lexington! 

Yet  there  was  no  definite  news.  Alice  received  from 
the  servant  each  rumour  as  it  swept  the  street.  Men 
had  been  killed — Americans  or  British?  There  still  was 
fighting — no,  there  was  not.  Then  she  heard  at  a  dis- 
tance the  drum  and  fife.  "  Oh,"  she  cried,  flushing  with 
hope,  "  Christine,  run  to  the  corner  and  see  if  the  troops 
have  returned!  " 

Christine  went  in  haste,  to  come  back  with  eyes  big 
with  interest.  "  No,  ma'am,  'tis  not  the  troops  re- 
turned. Tis  marines  marching  to  the  Common.  And, 
oh,  'tis  said  they  go  out  to  help  the  others,  who  are  all 
prisoners,  ma'am!" 

"  Prisoners?  Impossible!  "  responded  Alice;  but  the 
very  rumour  was  disquieting. 

Then  Dickie  came  to  the  cottage.  Alice  welcomed 
him,  in  the  hope  of  news  and  comfort.  News?  Why, 
nothing  had  happened.  Frank  gone  out?  Yes,  but  to 


260  The  Colonials 

fight?  Nonsense!  Troops  were  going  out  to  reinforce, 
certainly,  but  only  as  a  precaution.  Through  the  morn- 
ing Dickie  came  and  went,  bringing  her  such  comfort 
as  this,  as  ignorant  of  the  meaning  of  the  day  as  the 
very  children  who,  dismissed  from  school,  were  play- 
ing in  the  streets.  Even  if  there  were  a  little  firing, 
he  assured  her  at  noon,  there  was  no  danger  to  the 
troops.  But  Alice  remembered  Aneeb's  account  of  the 
fighting  against  Braddock. 

Aneeb,  sitting  in  the  lodge,  had  told  the  story  to  his 
son.  A  handful  of  Pottawattomies  were  with  the 
French.  The  English  troops  had  been  moving  slowly, 
steadily,  day  after  day,  nearer  and  nearer  Fort  Du- 
quesne.  The  garrison  was  small,  the  fort  weak,  the 
Indian  allies  were  few.  "  On  the  last  day,"  described 
Aneeb,  with  glowing  eyes,  while  his  son  drew  closer, 
breathless,  "  the  French  commandant  called  us  together, 
said  that  the  English  were  but  a  few  miles  off,  gave  our 
young  men  rum,  and  our  chiefs  presents,  broke  open  the 
powder  barrels  for  us  to  help  ourselves,  and  sent  us 
out  to  fight."  And  then — the  surprise  and  confusion, 
the  brave  English  standing  in  companies  to  be  shot 
down,  the  futile  volleys  against  the  invisible  Indians, 
the  yelling,  the  noise,  the  soldiers  falling  by  dozens,  and 
at  last  the  flight.  "  But  for  the  Virginians,"  said  Aneeb; 
"  but  for  that  young  chief  Wash-in-ton,  we  should  have 
killed  them  all." 

Stone  walls,  thought  Alice,  were  as  good  as  trees. 
Where  was  her  brother  now? 

Where  was  Captain  George  Tudor?  Where  were  all 
the  other  gay  and  careless  officers  who  had  gone  forth 
so  jauntily? 

Running,  swearing,  screaming.  Hoarse  with  rage. 
"Pick  up  your  gun;  get  back  to  the  ranks!  Load, 
damn  you,  Ipad!  My  God,  Harriman,  the  men  are 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle     261 

wild.  Is  Gould  down?  Another  officer  gone!  Here, 
Corporal,  help  that  man  bind  up  his  arm.  Leave  the 
gun;  he  cannot  use  it.  In  step,  men;  steady,  steady. 
Thank  God,  here's  a  halt!  Close  up!  Halt!  " 

"  Here,"  the  stone  tells  the  traveller  of  to-day,  "  the 
British  halted  for  rest."  The  exhausted  flankers  came 
in,  guns  were  loaded,  the  men  were  marshalled  afresh. 
But  bullets  came  from  nearby  thickets,  from  walls  and 
trees  and  barns.  Protected  by  the  hill,  assailable  from 
one  side  only,  the  men  continued  to  drop  in  the  ranks, 
and  looked  in  vain  for  the  enemy — for  but  a  single  man 
to  shoot  at.  A  glimpse  of  a  shoulder,  or  the  top  of  a 
head,  were  not  mark  enough  for  platoon  fire. 

"  I'm  not  hit,"  said  Tudor  to  his  lieutenant.  "  Not 
yet,  thank  God,  but  here  is  a  hole  in  my  sleeve.  How 
close  the  farmers  creep  up;  and  they  drop  from  the 
very  clouds.  There  seems  to  be  a  man  for  every  bush. 
And  the  heat,  Harriman,  and  our  poor  devils  tired  and 
hungry!  But  here  we  go  on  again.  Forward,  march!  " 

Another  wooded  turn,  where  flanking  is  impossible. 
Will  the  countrymen  never  engage  properly?  Will  they 
never  come  into  the  open  and  fight  like  men?  No  vol- 
leys, nothing  but  steady,  slow,  pop,  pop,  pop. 

What  was  it  Ellery  once  said?  When  the  Middlesex 
farmers  take  aim  across  their  stone  walls — the  methods 
of  the  Indians  a  natural  resort  of  a  militia.  "  Steady, 
men,  steady,  there!  Keep  your  temper.  Don't  swear. 
Get  the  step,  now.  Hep!  hep!  hep!  Steady,  I  say; 
slower,  slower!  Throw  down  your  knapsack,  then,  if 
it  galls  your  wound.  Harriman,  I  doubt  we  can  hold 
them  for  another  fifteen  miles.  Thank  God,  soon  we're 
at  Lexington  again.  Stop  there;  stop,  man!  Steady, 
steady,  in  the  ranks  there!  Steady,  I  say.  Shall  I  run 
you  through?  "  Sweating,  swearing,  Captain  Tudor  is 
beating  his  men  with  the  flat  of  his  sword. 


262  The  Colonials 

The  Americans  are  firing  from  every  cover;  the 
troops,  tired  and  demoralised,  are  passing  panic  ru- 
mours along  the  line.  Major  Pitcairn  has  had  to  leave 
his  horse.  The  lieutenant-colonel  is  wounded.  No  re- 
inforcements are  coming  at  all.  How  close  the  damned 
farmers  creep  up;  what  devilish  shots,  and  never  seen 
to  fire  at  in  return.  How  can  you  hit  what's  moving? 
Tomkins  down,  Wilkins  hurt,  Billson  shot  in  the  throat. 
There's  that  fellow  with  the  red  neckerchief  coming  up 
now  to  fire  again.  He  never  misses;  he  moves  too  fast 
to  be  hit.  Thank  the  Lord,  he  fired  at  the  company  in 
front.  Here's  the  man  he  hit,  twitching,  but  already 
dead.  Step  over  him  and  pass  on.  Oh,  for  water, 
water!  The  sergeant  was  killed  at  the  last  well,  when 
he  tried  to  drink.  God,  there's  the  man  with  the  red 
kerchief  again!  How  quickly  he  loads! 

The  men  press  away  from  the  fellow  with  the  red 
bandanna;  the  captain  shouts  and  darts,  with  threaten- 
ing sword,  to  keep  them  on  the  road — and  so,  for  rod 
after  rod,  in  dust  and  heat,  with  parching  throat  and 
empty  belly,  eyes  smarting,  feet  sore,  seeing  blood  on 
the  road,  and  now  and  then  a  fallen  comrade,  fearing 
the  blow  of  the  bullet,  and  in  return  firing  but  at  the 
air,  seeing  merely  a  head  here,  a  lithe  figure  there,  and 
next  a  black  muzzle,  on  go  the  flower  of  the  troops,  all 
but  running.  Alice,  Alice,  where  is  your  brother  now? 

"  It  is  of  no  use  to  worry,"  Alice  told  herself.  "  But 
the  uncertainty  confuses  me.  Take  me,"  she  asked  of 
Dickie,  when  he  came  again,  "  to  see  Barbara."  Would 
Mrs.  Drew  come?  No;  and  Alice  went  with  Dickie. 

For  the  first  time  she  was  in  the  streets,  seeing  on 
all  hands  frightened  faces,  with  eager,  unsatisfied,  ques- 
tioning looks.  At  Barbara's  gate  they  entered,  to  be 
met  at  the  door  of  the  house  by  Barbara  herself,  with  a 
cold  face. 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle      263 

"  Why  do  you  come?  "  she  asked,  occupying  the  pass- 
age, without  offering  to  stand  aside. 

"  Why,  Barbara!  "  faltered  Dickie. 

Barbara's  welcome  was  far  from  warm.  Her  brother 
was  out  in  the  country,  fighting — righting  against  Alice's 
brother.  Dickie  was  a  Tory,  and  had  been  smiling. 
On  such  a  day  to  smile!  So  Barbara  confronted  them 
at  the  door.  "  Why  do  you  come?  "  she  asked  again. 

"  Barbara,"  said  Alice  gently,  "  you  and  I  are  friends. 
We  must  always  be  friends,  whatever  happens.  Let 
me  in.  I  come  to  ask  the  news." 

"  The  news  is  bad,"  said  Barbara;  but  she  stood  aside 
and  let  them  enter. 

The  Whigs  had  the  news;  they  had  had  it  from  the 
very  first.  "  Father  is  out,"  said  Barbara.  "  The  coun- 
trymen are  firing  on  the  regulars  all  along  the  line  of 
their  retreat." 

"Retreat?     Ho!  "  cried  Dickie. 

"  Wait,"  returned  Barbara;  "  wait  until  father  comes." 

Then  Mr.  Savage  entered  the  house.  "  Barbara,"  he 
called,  as  he  entered,  "  fetch  me  my  spyglass.  Mistress 
Tudor? — Dickie?  Come  with  me,  all  of  you,  to  Beacon 
Hill.  Cambridge  bridge  has  been  taken  up;  the  troops 
must  come  back  by  way  of  Charlestown — or  not  come 
at  all." 

And  then — Alice  could  see  it  again  at  any  time  she 
pleased,  by  closing  her  eyes.  First  was  the  eager  climb 
up  the  steep  hill;  the  hundreds  of  people  already  there, 
the  hundreds  more  coming.  She  saw  the  broad  inlet  of 
the  river,  the  mainland  a  mile  away  in  front,  and  off  to 
the  right  the  peninsula  of  Charlestown,  the  point  of 
safety  for  the  troops.  Then  was  waiting  and  watching, 
talking,  fearing,  and  at  last 

"  There  is  smoke!  " 

"  No;  dust  on  the  Cambridge  road." 


264  The  Colonials 

There  were  smoke  and  dust  together,  and  then  the 
glitter  of  arms.  She  looked  three  times  through  Mr. 
Savage's  glass.  That  was  a  terrible  sight.  Along  the 
road,  in  a  lengthening  line,  were  winding  the  troops, 
dusty  red,  without  order,  and  in  great  haste.  From 
them  puffs  of  smoke,  beside  them  puffs  of  smoke,  above 
them,  on  the  hillsides,  puffs  of  smoke.  Men  were 
swarming  on  the  hills,  men  in  brown — the  countrymen. 
The  troops  marched  fast,  now  hidden  by  houses  and 
trees,  now  plainly  visible  in  their  uneven  array.  That 
was  the  army,  the  pride  of  the  nation,  and  those — 
heavens! — those  were  the  cowardly  farmers!  She  saw 
a  man  fall.  This  was  the  new  world — this  her  fortune 
in  America! 

On  and  on  the  troops  went.  There  were  the  marines, 
there  the  carts  with  wounded,  there  the  useless  cannon. 
And  puffs  and  puffs  and  puffs  of  smoke  came  from 
fields  and  houses  and  hills.  The  rapid  march — a  flight 
— continued;  no  sound  was  heard  from  the  distant  mus- 
kets; it  was  a  silent  panorama,  but  near  her  Dickie  bit 
his  lip  and  swore,  and  men  drew  hissing  breaths,  and 
women  groaned  and  fainted.  Yet  the  march  went  on, 
nearer  and  nearer  Charlestown,  and  the  ships,  and 
safety,  while  the  column  grew  thinner  and  shorter,  and 
here  and  there  red  bodies  dotted  the  dusty  road. 

But  at  last — at  last  the  final  quarter  mile  was  passed, 
and  she  saw  the  troops  crossing  Charlestown  neck. 
Safety!  The  guns  upon  the  ships  began  to  thunder; 
those  men  in  brown,  scattered  along  the  roadsides  and 
the  fields,  drew  back;  fresh  companies,  sent  over  from 
Boston,  were  in  line  across  the  little  isthmus;  and  in 
frightened  Charlestown  the  weary  troops  cast  them- 
selves down,  even  upon  the  pavements,  to  draw  breath. 

The  cloudless  day  was  over;  June  in  April  brought 
its  lovely  sunset.  The  nation  was  aflame;  for  forty 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle     265 

miles  around  men  were  hastening  toward  Boston,  and 
the  men  of  Marblehead  and  Salem,  arriving  just  too  late, 
were  gnashing  their  teeth  at  the  sight  of  the  troops  in 
safety — but  the  day  was  over  and  the  fighting  done. 

Alice  was  cold.  Was  one  of  those  red  spots,  motion- 
less on  the  distant  road,  her  brother?  Was  Frank 
unhurt? 

This  last  question  was  answered.  Mr.  Savage,  sweep- 
ing the  shore  and  water  with  his  glass,  suddenly  said, 
"  There  comes  Frank  Ellery,"  and  pointed  to  the  river. 
There  in  a  boat,  was  a  single  rower,  leisurely  scanning 
Charlestown  and  the  troops. 

But  her  brother?  "  Dickie,"  begged  Alice,  "  take  me 
home." 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   SIEGE    BEGINS 

Many  were  the  feelings  of  the  troops  in  Charlestown. 
Men  in  the  ranks,  veterans  of  the  Seven  Years'  \Va«-, 
forgot  wounds  and  fatigue,  groaning  as  they  thought 
of  the  day.  Grizzled  officers,  accustomed  since  years 
to  consider  their  arms  invincible,  were  amazed  at  what 
had  happened.  And  young  ensigns,  now  that  they  had 
pause  to  think,  gritted  their  teeth  as  they  realised  that 
their  uniforms,  for  the  first  time  under  fire,  bore  the 
stain  of  flight. 

But  the  soul  of  him  upon  whose  shoulders  rested  the 
responsibility  of  all  this  was  filled  with  alarm.  Every- 
thing had  gone  wrong;  he  had  nothing  to  show  for 
this  day.  Pitcairn,  hurrying  over  from  Charlestown, 
brought  to  Gage,  standing  near  the  ferry,  the  report 
that  at  Concord  little  had  been  done.  Either  the  stores 
had  been  spirited  away,  or  the  report  of  their  quantity 
was  false.  Three  cannon  had  been  found  and  disabled, 
a  few  barrels  of  wooden  bowls  and  spoons  burnt,  a 
number  of  barrels  of  flour  broken  open,  but  no  powder 
was  seized,  no  balls,  and  no  other  arms  of  any  kind. 
The  general,  knowing  that  his  information  was  correct, 
knew  also  that  either  these  devils  of  Yankees  had  been 
too  much  for  him  again,  or  that  there  had  been  mis- 
management somewhere. 

But  he  thought  of  one  head  upon  which  he  could 
vent  his  displeasure,  and  turned  to  an  aide.  "  The 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle     267 

Fourth  are  crossing,  are  they  not?  Send  me  Captain 
Sotheran." 

Captain  Sotheran  came,  tired  in  body  but  not  in  mind, 
disappointed  of  one  thing,  but  with  his  best  hope  sure 
of  fulfilment.  Major  Pitcairn  withdrew,  and  the  cap- 
tain approached  the  general  eagerly. 

Gage  fixed  him  with  his  eye.    "  You  will  report,  sir!  " 

"  Report,  sir?  "  The  captain  had  forgotten  the  im- 
portance of  the  task  which  had  been  given  him. 

"Report!  report!"  repeated  the  general  with  weak 
anger.  "  Where  are  Adams  and  Hancock?  You  have 
bungled  your  duty.  I  should  like  to  know  why." 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  the  captain  sullenly,  "  according  to 
orders  we  stationed  ourselves  between  Lexington  and 
Concord,  to  stop  all  comers.  Soon  after  midnight  came 
two  riding  along  the  road,  whom  our  pickets  spurred 
out  to  stop.  They  turned  into  the  field  where  we  were 
waiting;  one  ran  right  in  among  us  in  the  dark,  and 
we  seized  him.  The  other  must  have  seen  us;  he  put 
his  horse  at  a  fence  and  got  away." 

"To  Concord,  yes,"  commented  the  general  bitterly; 
"  so  that  the  Yankees  saved  all  the  best  of  their  stores. 
Well,  proceed,  sir.  What  of  Hancock  and  Adams?  " 

"  The  prisoner  was  Revere,  the  silversmith,"  said 
Sotheran.  "He  bore  himself  haughtily;  said  he  had 
alarmed  the  country  all  the  way  from  Boston,  and  the 
people  were  rising  on  us.  We  held  him  till  the  troops 
were  near  Lexington;  then  let  him  go  and  rode  to  find 
Hancock.  I  asked  a  maid  the  way  to  Mr.  Clark's  house. 
She  said  Clark's  tavern  was  down  a  road  to  the  left  of 
the  green.  We  went " 

"They  were  gone?"  interrupted  the  general. 

"  They  were  at  the  house  of  the  minister,  Mr.  Clark," 
said  Sotheran,  grinding  his  teeth.  l<  The  jade  had 
tricked  us.  We  lost  ten  minutes  searching  the  house ; 


268  The  Colonials 

when  we  found  the  right  scent,  that  devil  Revere  had 
warned  them,  and  they  were  gone!  " 

"  Their  papers?  "  demanded  the  general. 

"Revere  had  taken  them;  we  saw  him  and  another 
man  with  a  trunk." 

"  You  did  not  pursue?  "  cried  Gage. 

"  Firing  had  begun  at  the  green,"  answered  the  cap- 
tain. "  There  were  militia  around  us,  and  between  us 
and  Revere.  Considering  our  duty  done,  sir,  we  re- 
ported to  Lieutenant-Colonel  Smith,  who  sent  us  to 
take  command  of  our  companies." 

"My  God!"  burst  out  the  general;  "and  not  one 
of  you  the  man  for  a  bold  stroke!  Those  papers,  or 
those  men,  were  worth  half  the  province  to  me." 

Sotheran  said  nothing.  He  remembered  that  Harri- 
man  had  cried:  "Come  on!  We  can  take  Revere." 
Tudor  had  urged:  "Adams  and  Hancock  cannot  be 
far."  His  little  following  had  been  ready  for  the  bold 
stroke  for  which  the  general  longed,  but  he,  in  com- 
mand, had  not  given  the  word. 

He  was  not  the  man  the  general  thought  him.  Brave 
indeed  he  was,  indifferent  to  danger,  fulfilling  any  duty 
in  contempt  of  hazard.  He  would  have  gone  alone 
against  a  battery  as  willingly  as  he  often  went,  in  the 
early  morning,  to  a  duel  first  and  a  little  breakfast 
afterward.  But  to  spur  across  fields  after  a  man  with 
a  trunk;  to  scour  the  country  for  two  rebels — well, 
damn,  why  should  he? 

"  And,  thanks  to  you  again,"  went  on  the  general, 
"  I  have  lost  Warren." 

The  captain  started.  "  But  Ellery,"  he  cried.  "  Xot 
Ellery,  sir?  " 

"  Where  was  the  paper,"  demanded  the  general,  "  that 
you  were  to  send?  I  waited  for  it." 

"  Twas  in  the  letter,  sir.    Surely  you  found  it?" 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle     269 

"  I  did  not,"  said  the  general. 

"  Perhaps  it  fell  among  your  papers,  sir.  You  must 
have  overlooked  it.  Send — let  me  go  myself  and 
find  it!"  Sotheran  pressed  close  to  the  general,  his 
face  pale  with  eagerness. 

"  You  presume,  sir,"  replied  his  superior.  "  Stand 
back!" 

The  captain  bent  himself  and  begged.  "  Let  me — 
allow  me,  General — but  to  go  and  look  upon  your  desk, 
or  among  your  waste  paper.  Tis  not  too  late." 

The  general  flushed  with  anger  at  his  insistence. 
"  Sir,  the  letter  is  not  upon  my  desk.  If  it  fell  among 
my  waste  papers,  'twas  burnt  this  morning  by  my 
orders.  And  'tis  too  late;  Warren  and  Ellery  were  seen 
to  cross  the  ferry  early  this  morning.  Go,  sir;  at  once!  " 

With  angry  eyes,  white  to  the  lips,  Captain  Sotheran 
saluted  and  withdrew.  His  haughty  self-confidence 
broke  into  fury  as  he  returned  to  his  men.  Not  the  dis- 
grace to  the  regiment  and  the  army,  not  his  own  failure 
to  fulfil  his  task,  had  touched  his  pride;  but  that  his  re- 
venge was  balked — that  roused  his  devil. 

And  the  general,  left  to  himself,  walked  up  and  down 
with  such  despair  upon  his  mild,  weak  face,  that  his 
subordinates  dared  not  approach  him.  Hancock,  War- 
ren, and  Adams  were  to  the  rebels  more  than  powder 
and  ball — they  were  backbone,  heart,  and  brain.  To 
have  caught  them  would  have  been  worth  the  day  and 
all  its  losses,  but  without  them  he  knew  the  storm  that 
would  break  upon  his  head.  How  reputations  crumble! 
Only  the  strong  can  bear  responsibility,  only  the  eagle 
fly  in  upper  air. 

Meanwhile,  Captain  Tudor,  despairing  like  the  gen- 
eral, but  without  the  bitterness  of  personal  disappoint- 
ment, was  telling  to  his  sister,  in  broken  words,  his 
experiences  of  the  day.  "  I  have  but  a  moment,"  he 


270  The  Colonials 

said.  "  I  must  sleep  with  my  men  at  the  barracks  to- 
night. Poor  fellows — oh,  Alice,  it  was  terrible !  " 

So  changed  he  was  from  his  carelessness  of  the  night 
before!  "You  are  not  hurt?"  she  enquired  earnestly. 
"  You  are  so  pale,  George?  " 

"  Faint  and  hungry,"  he  said.  "  Hurt  to  the  soul. 
No,  I  must  not  eat  just  now;  I  came  but  to  tell  you  of 
my  safety.  Such  a  dreadful  day!  We  are  disgraced — 
beaten  by  a  militia!  The  most  frightful  march!  I  can 
never  forget  it.  Our  oldest  soldiers  were  in  a  panic; 
discipline  was  forgotten;  all  things  were  forgotten  but 
fear  for  themselves.  The  Americans  that  fell  into  their 
hands — oh,  near  the  tavern  at  Menotomy,  where  I  have 
dined,  an  old  man  stood  at  the  fence  and  fired  at  us. 
They  killed  him;  they  thrust  him  with  half  a  dozen 
bayonets.  And  he — my  God! — of  our  own  English 
blood!  I  saw  boys,  Alice,  shooting  at  us.  How  they 
must  hate  us!  This  can  never  be  remedied." 

Tears  came  to  his  eyes — honest,  manly  tears,  such 
as  many  lovers  of  their  country  at  that  moment  were 
shedding.  '  This  can  never  be  remedied!  "  he  repeated. 
Never  be  remedied!  What  terrible  forebodings  did  he 
feel — did  all  sober  Tories  and  good  Whigs  feel — at  the 
thought  of  civil  war.  "  I  did  not  expect  this,"  cried 
poor  Tudor. 

Few  expected  it.  The  warnings  of  Warren,  the  ac- 
tions of  Congress,  and  the  arming  of  the  colony  had 
been  considered  but  pretence.  Even  now,  few  under- 
stood what  had  happened. 

Thus  Dickie  Ellery,  seeking  his  brother,  was  still  be- 
wildered. "What  is  this?"  he  asked,  when  he  found 
Frank  in  his  room.  "  Why  has  this  happened?  " 

"  It  was  bound  to  happen,"  answered  Frank. 

"What  brings  you  back?"  asked  Dickie. 

"  Doctor  Warren  sent  me." 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle      271 

"  And  what,"  continued  the  younger  brother,  "  is  to 
happen  now?  " 

"  War,  Dickie,  war,"  said  Frank. 

"  Xo!"  cried  Dickie  breathless. 

He  pointed  out  to  Frank,  as  well  as  he  could,  the 
folly  of  it.  The  king  was  irresistible;  to  use  force  was 
madness.  When  had  a  few  people  conquered  a  king? 
Magna  Charta — what's  that?  No,  Dickie  knew  nothing 
of  the  great  Revolution.  Couldn't  Frank  see  that  any 
one  who  engaged  against  the  king  would  be  ruined  for- 
ever? An  ideal?  "  Why,  I've  always  been  satisfied," 
cried  unhappy  Dickie.  "  Why  shouldn't  every  one  be?  " 

At  dark  Frank  Ellery  was  standing  on  the  summit 
of  Beacon  Hill.  Lights,  numerous  and  unwonted, 
twinkled  on  the  shores  that  encircled  the  harbour.  They 
were  thickest  in  Roxbury  and  on  Charlestown  Com- 
mon, stopping  the  two  egresses  of  the  town.  While 
Sotheran,  learning  that  Frank  had  returned,  was  revolv- 
ing new  plans  against  him,  Frank  stretched  his  arms  in 
greeting  to  his  distant  countrymen,  and  his  pure  ardour 
brought  inexpressible  emotion  to  his  breast.  The 
country  had  sprung  to  arms — the  siege  of  Boston  had 
begun ! 


CHAPTER  III 

PERSEVERANCE 

All  during  that  nineteenth  of  April,  when  hurrying 
from  road  to  road  Frank  Ellery  informed  and  directed 
the  eager  farmers,  intent  as  he  was  on  the  work  the 
thought  of  Alice  was  in  his  mind.  In  shady  lanes  or  in 
dusty  roads;  now  so  close  to  the  fight  that  he  could  see 
the  troops,  now  far  away;  in  spite  of  the  excitement  he 
saw  her  face  repeatedly,  saw  her  as  she  had  stood  in 
Lady  Harriet's  anteroom,  and  heard  her  words:  "Do 
you  remember? " 

Did  he  remember?  Yes!  Every  day  of  that  former 
intimacy  was  precious  to  him;  once  he  had  known  her 
every  thought.  By  the  strange  subconsciousness  of 
love,  she  was  present  to  him  in  danger  and  in  work;  he 
returned  to  Boston  warm  with  the  thought  that  he  was 
nearer  to  her.  Soon  he  should  see  her;  soon  she  should 
yield! 

The  length  of  the  interruptions  that  came  was  enough 
to  drive  him  mad. 

From  the  very  first  there  were  things  that  he  must 
do.  First,  to  secure  all  of  Doctor  Warren's  papers, 
medicines,  and  instruments,  and  take  them  before  mid- 
night to  the  Cambridge  shore.  On  his  return  he  se- 
cured his  two  boats  from  seizure,  concealing  them 
where  none  but  he  would  ever  find  them.  Then  he 
must  see  the  selectmen,  and  gave  them  Doctor  Warren's 
message.  It  was  two  o'clock  before  Frank  was  sleep- 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle     273 

ing  in  his  bed.  Early  in  the  morning  the  selectmen 
sent  for  him  to  come  to  the  town  house. 

Upon  their  shoulders  was  the  responsibility  for  all 
the  townspeople.  By  the  militia  outside,  supplies  were 
cut  off;  at  any  minute  there  might  be  fighting  in  the 
town  itself,  and  what  to  do  with  the  poor  and  the  sick, 
the  women  and  the  children,  must  be  considered.  El- 
lery  was  needed,  Henry  Knox  was  needed — both  strong 
young  men  well  known  among  the  poorer  classes — to 
quiet  those  who  came  besieging  the  doors  of  the  town 
house.  It  was  here  that  began  the  close  acquaintance 
of  Frank  with  the  man  who,  from  his  service  in  the 
Boston  battery,  rose  to  be  the  commander  of  the  Ameri- 
can artillery.  They  worked  together  on  that  day.  At 
midnight,  Frank,  freed  from  his  service,  neared  Alice's 
cottage,  only  to  see  redcoats  at  the  windows.  He 
turned  away,  went  to  Beacon  Hill,  and  looked  upon  the 
panorama. 

Below  him  was  spread  the  peninsula  of  Boston, 
stretching  away  to  the  narrow  neck  on  the  south. 
Westward  was  the  broad  and  shallow  Back  Bay;  east- 
ward lay  the  harbour.  From  the  north  Charlestown 
reached  out  from  the  land,  shaped,  like  Boston,  as  a 
pear,  and  connected  with  the  mainland  by  its  slender 
stem.  To  the  southeast  Dorchester,  with  its  rocky 
heights,  squarer  than  the  other  two  peninsulas  and 
broader  based,  likewise  stretched  out  toward  Boston. 
Though  Frank  was  no  soldier,  the  military  situation 
was  at  once  apparent. 

Well  protected  though  a  peninsula  usually  is,  Boston 
could  be  either  dominated  or  defended  by  the  other 
two  projections  of  the  shore  which  approached  her  on 
the  north  and  the  southeast.  Only  the  narrow  river 
channel,  scarcely  two  furlongs  wide,  separated  Boston 
from  Charlestown,  the  two  hills  of  which  were  in  easy 


274  The  Colonials 

cannon  range.  On  the  other  side,  Dorchester  Heights 
commanded  the  town.  If  the  Americans  could  take  and 
hold  the  Heights,  or  Bunker's  Hill,  the  British  could  not 
remain  in  Boston.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  however 
great  the  number  of  beseigers,  let  General  Gage  but 
seize  those  vantage  points,  protecting  the  land  ap- 
proaches as  his  fleet  controlled  the  water,  and  Boston 
would  be  impregnable. 

Away  at  Roxbury  Frank  could  see  his  countrymen 
working  busily,  as  they  had  worked  all  day.  Carts  were 
going  back  and  forth,  entrenchments  were  rising. 
Nearer  the  town  trees  had  been  felled  and  drawn  in 
front  of  the  approach  of  the  Neck.  Light  was  failing; 
as  he  looked  in  other  directions  he  could  see  no  evi- 
dence of  similar  activity.  But  the  works  at  Roxbury 
put  heart  into  him.  He  went  down  the  hill  forecasting 
a  good  future,  for  he  knew  that  from  all  New  England 
men  were  hastening  to  Boston,  and  that  the  news  of 
Concord,  sent  to  the  farther  colonies,  was  kindling  in 
all  hearts  a  flame  of  anger. 

Yet  he  began  to  chafe  as  the  politics  of  a  second  day 
kept  him  from  seeing  Alice.  The  selectmen  employed 
him  with  Knox  as  before,  as  many  communications 
passed  between  them  and  Governor  Gage.  For  the 
Tories  had  been  protesting  to  the  governor.  If  the 
women  and  children  were  allowed  to  leave  the  town, 
the  men  that  remained  would  be  more  ready  to  make 
trouble,  and,  by  cooperating  with  an  attack  from  out- 
side, could  do  great  harm.  The  Tories  urged  the  gover- 
nor, before  granting  permission  for  any  one  to  leave 
Boston,  to  demand  a  delivery  of  all  arms,  and  a  general 
promise  by  the  citizens  to  keep  the  peace.  In  order  to 
come  to  an  agreement,  it  was  decided  to  call  a  meeting 
in  the  morning. 

There   the    matter   was.    settled   easily,    for    Doctor 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle     275 

Church  appeared  before  it.  He,  reputed  to  have  been 
with  Warren  in  the  fight  of  the  nineteenth,  had  entered 
the  town,  he  said,  for  medical  supplies;  and  with  a 
British  captain — it  was  Sotheran — to  conduct  him,  had 
come  to  the  meeting  in  order  that,  as  a  member  of  the 
Committee  of  Safety,  he  might  give  advice.  The  gen- 
eral had  allowed  it. 

Had  allowed  it,  yes;  but  what  fresh  guineas  were  in 
the  doctor's  pocket?  Yet  without  a  blush  he  stood,  and 
brought  the  meeting  to  his  wishes.  He  was  master  of 
the  method  of  swaying  these  people  who  trusted  and 
admired  him.  Something  of  the  lucid  reasoning  caught 
from  Mr.  Adams,  something  of  the  warmth  of  Doctor 
Warren:  these  qualities  in  his  speech,  though  embroid- 
ered with  the  rhetorical  flowers  of  a  poetaster,  were 
sufficient  to  show  with  convincing  force  the  reason  why 
the  townspeople  should  give  up  their  arms.  The  meet- 
ing came  completely  to  the  doctor's  view,  and  in  en- 
thusiasm voted  to  accept  it. 

As  good-naturedly  pushing  and  jostling,  with  that 
sense  of  comradeship  which  comes  after  the  removal  of 
a  danger — and  a  very  real  danger  it  had  seemed,  to  the 
minds  of  most,  that  there  would  be  fighting  in  the 
streets — the  crowd  went  out  from  the  hall,  it  happened 
that  Frank  and  Knox  wrere  carried  where  they  would 
meet  Doctor  Church  at  the  head  of  the  stairs.  The 
doctor,  who  had  been  talking  fluently  with  those  about 
him,  reached  out  and  shook  the  hands  of  the  two  young 
men  as  they  came  closer.  Side  by  side  they  went  down 
the  stairs  and  out  into  the  street.  There  the  doctor 
drew  Frank  and  Knox  apart. 

"  I  have  lost  my  keeper  in  the  crowd,"  he  said.  "  Let 
us  wait  here  for  him  to  find  me."  He  spoke  with  them 
until  Sotheran,  blazing  in  the  crowd  like  a  poppy,  ap- 
peared to  claim  his  charge. 


276  The  Colonials 

In  strange  contrast  to  the  man  at  his  side,  the  doctor 
went  away.  He  bowed  affably  to  the  salutes  of  the 
Whigs,  but  once  clear  of  the  crowd  spoke  to  Sotheran. 

"  I  have  asked  Ellery  to  send  me  information,"  he 
said. 

The  cold  face  of  his  companion  lighted.  "You  have ?  " 
he  asked  with  interest,  turning  to  the  doctor. 

"  Yes,"  said  Doctor  Church,  "  and  I  have  advised  him 
to  remain  in  Boston — and  wait,  I  have  a  scheme  to  keep 
him  here." 

They  drew  closer  together,  and  talked  as  they  went. 
Yet,  they  were  observed.  "  The  doctor,"  said  Knox  to 
Frank,  as  they  still  stood  by  the  dock,  "  is  friends  with 
all.  See  how  he  is  even  courteous  to  his  guardian." 

Frank  made  no  answer.  His  eyes,  trained  in  past 
years  to  exceptional  keenness,  saw  in  the  countenances 
of  Sotheran  and  Church  more  than  mere  courtesy.  Was 
there  not  a  gleam  in  the  captain's  eye,  earnestness  in 
Church's  face?  Well,  they  had  turned  a  corner,  and 
were  gone.  But  that  momentary  glimpse  of  the  two 
profiles  made  an  impression,  faint  and  at  first  forgotten, 
but  strong  enough,  if  recalled,  to  upset  careful  plans. 

"  You  will  advise  the  general  to  detain  Ellery  in  the 
town?  "  asked  Sotheran,  weighing  the  doctor's  proposal. 
"  Very  well.  But  not  arrested,  mind.  He  must  be  free 
to  betray  himself.  Let  him  make  rope  " — and  the  cap- 
tain thought  of  Frank's  own  words — "  to  hang  himself." 

That  evening,  in  the  mess-room,  Sotheran  was  con- 
gratulated by  his  friends.  "  So  the  rebel  physician  is 
gone  again,  and  your  task  done,"  said  Ormsby.  "  It 
must  have  been  a  dull  day,  old  fellow." 

'  Tis  finished,  at  any  rate,"  responded  Sotheran  in- 
differently. 

''  Hear  him,"  laughed  Tudor;  "  he  lives  but  from  day 
to  day  on  the  sensations  of  each." 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle     277 

"  But  found  to-day  no  honey,"  cried  Harriman. 

"Nor  wine,  eh?"  enquired  Ormsby.  "Nor  a  quiet 
half-hour  for  cards  with  the  doctor?  My  dear  fellow,  I 
commiserate." 

So  they  jested  with  him,  fond  and  proud  of  him,  as 
an  ornament  to  the  regiment.  He  was  their  grenadier 
captain,  their  bravest  man  and  their  handsomest,  their 
coolest  and  haughtiest,  with  a  reputation  with  the  sword 
that  shed  a  little  lustre  on  them  all.  They  sat  in  a  half- 
circle  before  him,  watching  his  face  at  each  sally,  and 
strove  to  rouse  him  beyond  indifference.  This  was  what 
he  loved,  to  bask  lazily  in  the  warmth  of  homage,  to 
acknowledge  each  hit  with  but  a  lift  of  the  eyebrow, 
to  smile  and  say  nothing. 

"  By  Jove !  "  cried  Harriman  suddenly.  "  News  ! 
news  for  all !  I  got  it  of  the  aide  who  took  the  message. 
Moulton  of  the  Forty-third.  Ellery,  you  know — your 
friend,  Henry,  or  yours,  George — Ellery  is  detained  in 
town." 

"  Not  arrested?  "  cried  Tudor,  much  disturbed. 

"  No,"  replied  Harriman;  "  but  I  understand  that  he 
and  Knox  are  informed  by  the  general  that  they  are  not 
to  leave  the  town  without  permission — which  means  not 
at  all." 

"  But  Ellery?  "  asked  Tudor.     "  Why  is  this  done?  " 

"  As  a  suspect,  I  fancy,"  answered  Harriman.  "  Now 
what  d'ye  think  of  your  friend,  George  ?  " 

"  Fie,  Harriman !  "  cried  Sotheran.  "  Tis  unfair  to 
suppose  that  George  longer  considers  Ellery  his  friend. 
Be  sure  he's  forbid  him  the  house  before  now."  His 
passing  glance  saw  the  flush  that  started  to  Tudor's  face. 

"Eh— I?"  cried  Tudor.  "I've  not  forbid  him  the 
house." 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  Sotheran.  "  I  supposed —  How- 
ever, my  dear  George,  'tis  none  of  my  affair." 


278  The  Colonials 

He  leaned  back  in  the  chair,  and  stroked  his  chin, 
but  he  knew,  as  well  as  if  he  saw,  the  blank  expression 
that  overspread  the  other's  face. 

"I  say,"  hesitated  Tudor.  "Ought  I  to  do  so, 
Henry?" 


CHAPTER   IV 

r 
TUDOR'S  DILEMMA 

Sotheran  retired  completely  behind  the  screen  of  his 
manner.  "  My  dear  fellow,"  he  returned,  looking  at 
Tudor  very  quietly,  yet  most  disquietingly,  for  it  was 
as  if  he  did  not  see  him,  "  as  I  said,  'tis  none  of  my 
affair." 

He  rose  as  a  signal  that  the  subject  should  be 
changed.  "  Harriman,  did  Moulton  say  anything  of  an 
attack  upon  the  fellows  outside?" 

"  Nay,"  answered  Harriman  quickly,  taking  the  in- 
dicated cue.  "  Tis  not  to  be  expected  now,  I'm  sure. 
Barron,  who  was  on  guard  yesterday  at  the  lines,  says 
the  rebels  in  Roxbury  are  very  strong.  Do  you  not 
think  that  Tommy  will  wait,  now,  till  the  reeforcements 
come?  " 

Ormsby  gave  his  opinion  on  this  point,  and  with 
Sotheran  and  Harriman  began  to  argue.  But  Tudor, 
having  received  a  new  and  most  disagreeable  idea,  sat 
staring  straight  before  him.  He  had  never  thought  of 
forbidding  Ellery.  What  should  be  done?  He  saw' 
himself  confronted  by  the  most  distressing  problem  of 
his  life. 

It  often  happens  that  the  good-natured  grow  to  man's 
estate  without  the  necessity  of  making  one  important 
choice  between  duty  and  affection.  The  two  so  often 
coincide,  or  can  be  made  to  do  so  by  such  slight  com- 
promises, that  commonly  one  can  follow  an  easy  course. 


280  The  Colonials 

There  is  a  little  taking  of  advice,  an  occasional  request 
for  favour,  and — well,  if  one  must  give  up  a  small  mat- 
ter, 'tis  no  great  sacrifice. 

Captain  George  Tudor  had  passed  his  youth  in 
pleasant  places,  and  advanced  beyond  his  majority  with- 
out any  more  distressing  circumstances  than  those  two 
years  of  separation  from  Alice,  and  the  deaths  of  his 
parents.  These  experiences,  hard  as  they  had  seemed  to 
be,  had  not  called  out  in  him  any  other  than  the  gentlest 
of  his  qualities — patience.  To  wait  and  to  endure 
seemed  all  that  was  demanded  of  him.  And  the  experi- 
ences, passing  by,  left  him  with  his  freshness  of  spirit, 
his  good-nature,  and  his  trust  in  others,  unimpaired. 

There  was  in  him,  indeed,  a  persistent  horror  of  one 
man  which  sprang  from  these  good  qualities.  Once  or 
twice  to  his  comrades,  once  or  twice  to  Frank,  he  had 
expressed  his  loathing  of  the  man  who  had  tried  to 
betray  his  sister.  But  even  this  hatred  came  from 
Tudor's  better  nature,  the  nature  of  one  who,  in  that  age 
of  loose  morals,  had  never  wronged  a  woman. 

He  was  the  man,  then,  upon  whom  Sotheran  had  de- 
cided to  make  his  next  impression.  Tudor  was  not 
weak — not  more  than  Dickie,  whom  at  this  period  he 
strongly  resembled.  He  and  Dickie  had  arrived  at  the 
time  when  they  must  pay  the  penalty  for  lack  of  thought, 
and  they  both  paid  high.  But  Tudor  would  not  have 
been  the  brother  of  Alice,  nor  Dickie  of  Frank,  if  among 
the  perplexities  that  met  them  they  had  not  been  able 
to  find,  though  late,  the  proper  way. 

And  it  must  be  admitted  that  Tudor's  position  was 
a  hard  one.  He  was  pledged  in  advance  to  a  course  of 
conduct,  as  a  soldier  must  always  promise  to  subordi- 
nate his  conscience  to  the  orders  of  his  leaders.  His 
duties  commanded  him;  the  code  of  honour  was  rigid, 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle     281 

and  the  opinions  of  his  comrades  made  a  current  of 
thought  which  was  bound  to  influence  his. 

As  he  contemplated  the  suggestion  which  Sotheran 
had  so  artfully  insinuated,  he  could  not  fail  to  feel  that 
his  companions,  discussing  at  a  greater  length  than 
necessary  the  question  of  what  would  happen  next,  were 
conscious  of  his  dilemma,  and  were  considerately  giving 
him  time  to  resolve  it.  He  knew  very  well  what  they 
thought  he  should  do.  But  they  could  not  know  his 
immense  gratitude  to  Frank,  nor  the  admiration  that 
strengthened  it,  nor  the  personal  affection  that  had 
sprung  up  between  the  two. 

Exactly  as  Dickie,  living  near  his  brother  yet  speak- 
ing seldom,  had  come  by  the  mere  sight  of  him  to  love 
him  more  and  more,  so  Tudor,  prevented  by  the  feel- 
ing in  the  corps  which  he  must  respect,  from  an  intimacy 
with  a  Whig,  had  been  profoundly  stirred  by  their  occa- 
sional meetings.  This  quiet  fellow,  so  self-reliant,  drew 
to  himself  both  Tudor  and  Dickie  by  the  feeling  that  he 
was  stronger  than  they.  And  Tudor's  deep  affection  for 
his  sister,  with  the  knowledge  that  he  owed  her,  his 
most  precious  possession  in  life,  to  Frank,  caused  and 
maintained  in  him  a  powerful  sense  of  obligation. 

Then  how  hard  it  would  be  to  forbid  Ellery  the  house! 
As  an  officer  and  as  a  man,  Tudor's  duties  seemed  so 
different,  that,  as  Sotheran  expected  of  him,  he  sought 
advice.  Harriman  and  Ormsby  left  the  room,  and 
Tudor  sprang  up  and  spoke  to  Sotheran. 

"  Henry,"  he  said,  "upon  my  soul  I'm  most  distressed. 
Answer  me  now,  as  a  friend.  What  should  I  do  in  this 
matter?" 

"Oh — that?"  Sotheran  became  grave,  and  looked 
away.  "  My  dear  George,  I  cannot  advise  you." 

"  Then—"  ejaculated  Tudor.  "  By  Jove,  I  don't  know 
what  to  do!" 


282  The  Colonials 

He  sat  down  dejectedly  in  his  chair,  put  his  chin  in 
his  hands,  and  stared  at  the  floor.  He  was  unable  to 
think,  confused  as  he  was,  and  unpractised  in  the  art. 
Sotheran  understood  him  perfectly,  and  but  for  the  in- 
terruption that  came  would  presently  have  spoken.  Yet 
the  interruption,  even  had  he  planned  it,  could  not  have 
been  more  opportune. 

A  soldier-servant  came  into  the  room  bringing  a 
card  in  his  hand. 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir,"  he  said  to  Captain  Sotheran,  and 
gave  the  card.  "  A  gentleman  to  see  you." 

"  I  will  go,"  said  Tudor,  raising  his  head.  "  You  can 
receive  him  here." 

"  Nay,  remain,"  responded  Sotheran,  looking  at  the 
card.  "  Mr.  Henry  Knox — who's  he  ?  " 

"  The  bookseller,"  answered  Tudor. 

"  I  have  no  account  with  him,"  drawled  the  captain. 
"  But  show  him  in."  He  placed  himself  before  the  fire- 
place in  his  laziest  attitude,  and  waited  until  Knox, 
quietly  dressed  in  his  homespun,  grave  and  courteous, 
tall,  very  broad,  and  very  strong,  stood  before  him. 

Knox  and  Tudor  greeted  as  acquaintances,  but  Sothe- 
ran nodded  nonchalantly  to  the  American's  salute.  As 
Knox  looked  with  interest  upon  him,  the  captain,  posing 
negligently,  gave  him  little  time. 

"  Mr.  Cox — er,  excuse  me,"  referring  to  the  card. 
"  Mr.  Knox,  my  time  is  short." 

"  And  my  errand,"  replied  the  Bostonian,  "  will  not 
tend  to  make  it  longer." 

"Well?" 

Knox  did  his  errand  ceremoniously.  "  Mr.  Francis 
Ellery !  "  he  said  bowing,  "  reminds  Captain  Sotheran 
that  he  has  promised  him  a  meeting.  Will  the  captain 
designate  some  friend  with  whom  I  can  arrange  the 
preliminaries?  " 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle      283 

"  Oh !  "  breathed  Tudor  in  the  silence. 

Sotheran,  leaning  upon  the  mantel,  looked  at  Knox 
for  a  moment  with  lifted  brows.  "  Truly?  "  he  enquired 
mildly.  He  looked  down  at  his  waistcoat,  and  brushed 
away  a  crumb.  "  Well — "  he  said,  as  if  considering 
lightly,  and  then  deciding,  finished:  "  No!  " 

Knox  flushed  and  bowed.  But  as  he  turned  to  go 
Sotheran  raised  his  hand.  "  Stay,"  he  said  carelessly. 
"  Mr.  Fox — pardon  me — Mr.  Knox,  pray  take  a  fuller 
answer  to  Mr.  Ellery.  Since  our  general,  as  I  under- 
stand, has  been  pleased  to  indicate  to  your  friend  that  he 
has  purposes  concerning  him,  it  would  not  become  me 
to  interfere.  That  is,  I  take  it,  reason  enough.  But — " 
and  he  started  suddenly  away  from  the  mantel.  His 
indifference  vanished,  he  drew  himself  grandly  erect,  and 
with  one  stride  stood  face  to  face  with  Knox. 

The  two  confronted  each  other;  both  haughty  and 
both  threatening.  Knox,  like  an  angry  bull,  stood 
with  red  eyes,  while  Sotheran,  in  fiercely  penetrating 
voice,  finished  his  message. 

"  But,"  he  cried,  "tell  Mr.  Ellery  this:  Were  he  not 
marked  by  our  general  for  his  own,  I  would  not  meet 
him.  Since  this  is  time  of  war,  I  hold  myself  at  all 
times  ready  to  obey  the  orders  of  my  colonel,  and  am 
not  free  to  duel.  But  even  then — tell  Mr.  Ellery  this — 
as  a  rebel  he  is  beneath  me,  and  I  would  not  do  him  the 
honour  to  cross  swords  with  him." 

Then  he  stepped  back  and  bowed.  "  Sir,"  he  said, 
"  your  humble  servant!  " 

Knox  bowed  as  low.  "  Captain  Sotheran,  your  most 
obedient!  "  He  drew  himself  up,  turned,  and  went  stiffly 
from  the  room. 

Tudor,  even  after  the  Bostonian  was  gone,  stared  at 
his  friend  without  words.  Sotheran  had  not  regained 
his  careless  manner;  his  face  was  a  dull  red,  and  through 


284  The  Colonials 

his  parted  lips  his  teeth  were  showing.  He  turned  and 
looked  upon  his  friend  as  one  much  moved. 

"  George,"  he  said,  "  circumstances — this  fellow — 
have  forced  me  to  give  you  the  opinion  I  refused." 

Tudor  nodded,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  other's.  "  Yes," 
he  said. 

"  It  was  not  easy  to  say  it  in  your  presence,"  said 
Sotheran.  "  Now,  since  I  have  gone  so  far  with  Knox, 
I  must  say  the  rest  to  you.  But  my  position  may  easily 
seem  false.  I  am  a  suitor  for  your  sister's  hand,  so 
is  this  Ellery.  Credit  me  with  no  selfishness  in  advising 
you  against  him." 

"  Henry,"  cried  Tudor  generously,  "  I  would  never 
think  it  of  you !  "  He  sprang  up  and  touched  the  other 
affectionately  upon  the  arm. 

Sotheran  smiled,  but  with  constraint.  "  You  are 
kind,"  he  said.  "  I  have  not  much  to  say;  only  this, 
that  I  am,  and  you  are,  an  officer  of  the  king.  I  did 
Mr.  Knox's  country  the  courtesy  to  say  that  this  is  war. 
There  is  a  rebellion  against  the  king,  against  his  sacred 
Majesty.  I  am  sworn  to  uphold  him,  so  are  you.  A 
rebel — my  God,  George,"  he  cried,  "  I  consider  a  rebel 
the  most  despicable  thing  upon  this  earth !  " 

His  voice,  repressed  lest  others  in  the  corridors  might 
hear,  seemed  to  shake  him  with  its  pent-up  vehemence. 
His  eyes  fixed  Tudor's ;  the  weaker  man  felt  the  great 
influence  of  a  powerful  nature.  Sotheran  paused,  drew 
breath,  and  then  continued: 

"  I  could  not  prevent  this  Ellery  from  speaking  with 
Doctor  Church  this  day.  A  Whig  leader  and  his  fol- 
lower— was  not  information  exchanged?  We  have  no 
proof;  out  of  forbearance  the  general  permits  Ellery  to 
walk  the  streets.  But  he  suspects  him;  so  do  I;  so, 
in  your  heart,  George,  do  you.  And  you  know  as  well 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle     285 

as  I  what  you  should  say  to  him  when  next  he  appears 
at  your  door." 

"  Yes,"  faltered  Tudor. 

Sotheran  had  found  within  himself  the  spirit  of  the 
actor.  He  drew  back  a  step  and  wiped  his  forehead. 
"  You  do  not  often  see  me  thus,  George,"  he  said  with 
sudden  change  of  tone.  Tudor,  astonished,  saw  a  look 
of  gentleness  come  upon  his  companion's  face.  The 
taller,  older  man  put  out  his  hand. 

"  Do  not  misjudge  me,"  he  said.  He  wrung  Tudor's 
hand,  and  abruptly  quitted  the  room.  Tudor,  much 
moved,  after  a  few  minutes'  pause  gathered  up  his  own 
hat  and  sword  and  left  the  barracks. 

The  streets  were  winding  and  the  evening  dull.  So 
were  his  thoughts  and  his  spirits.  "I  hate  it — I  hate  it!" 
he  said  to  himself,  and  faced  his  duty  with  the  shrink- 
ing of  one  who  has  never,  of  his  own  will,  attempted  the 
unpleasant.  "  God,  what  terrible  times !  "  His  own 
dead  comrades  !  Well,  he  was  resolved. 

He  was  going  to  his  sister's  cottage,  where  he  was  to 
sleep  for  the  first  time  since  the  nineteenth.  He  reached 
the  gate  and  raised  the  latch.  Some  one  strode  out  of 
the  dusk  toward  him.  "  George — "  he  recognised 
Frank's  voice.  "  I  am  glad  to  see  you.  May  I  go  in 
with  you  ?  " 

Tudor  closed  the  gate  again,  and  faced  the  other.  A 
painful  lack  of  words  oppressed  him.  How  should  he 
say  it? 

Frank,  as  he  listened  to  Tudor's  stumbling  words, 
watched  him  with  pity.  This  good  fellow  trying  to  do 
right,  honestly  baring  his  own  mind,  how  unfortunate 
was  he  in  his  ignorance !  How  would  a  rejoinder  stab 
him  to  the  heart !  As  blundering  Tudor  used  Sotheran's 
name,  Frank  felt  the  fresh  sting  of  the  rejected  chal- 


286  The  Colonials 

lenge,  and  was  almost  angry  enough  to  tell  his  tale.  Yet 
he  could  not  speak. 

Sotheran  had  stopped  his  mouth  and  tied  his  hands. 
Clever?  Yes,  damnably  clever.  Frank's  challenge  had 
practically  been  a  threat  of  exposure.  Sotheran's  reply 
was  the  defiance :  "  Tell  what  you  know,  and  Tudor 
dies !  " 

Sotheran  knew,  and  Frank  knew,  that  Tudor's  affec- 
tion for  his  comrade  could  be  turned  at  once  into  deadly 
hatred.  But  then,  what?  Sotheran  had  refused  to  fight 
Frank,  Tudor  could  seize  that  pretext  and  demand  a 
duel,  and  even  without  it  had  the  prior  claim  as  Alice's 
natural  protector.  And  he  was  but  a  boy  with  the 
small-sword. 

Yet  what  matter  was  it  after  all  ?  Frank  knew  that  in 
no  case  could  he  tell  Tudor.  The  revenge  was  his ;  the 
pursuit  was  his ;  and1  he  must  bide  his  time.  He  gave 
his  promise  not  to  come  to  the  little  cottage  any  more. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE    SNARE    FOR    DICKIE 

It  was  not  by  accident  that  Sotheran  collected  Harri- 
man,  de  Berniere,  and  Ormsby,  and  led  them  that  even- 
ing to  Alice's  cottage.  His  comrades  were  to  mask  the 
object  of  his  visit,  which  was  accomplished  in  the  mo- 
ment of  his  entrance.  He  saw  Tudor's  dejected  face 
and  Alice's  pensive  air,  and  knew  that  he  had  succeeded. 

But  the  accident  that  brought  Dickie  there  was  en- 
tirely to  his  taste.  Dickie  had  come  with  Anthony, 
yet  was  without  his  usual  buoyancy.  That  cloud  which 
for  two  days  had  darkened  his  brow  it  was  Sotheran's 
business  first  to  deepen,  and  then  to  clear  away.  The 
captain  saw  his  opportunity  to  begin  upon  the  second  of 
his  projects. 

He  took  possession  of  Alice,  with  the  lordly  manner 
that  seemed  to  give  him  right.  Harley,  who  had  come 
shyly  to  view  his  goddess,  sighed  as  he  found  himself 
in  a  corner  beside  chatty  Mrs.  Drew.  Harriman  and 
Ormsby  exchanged  glances,  meaning  that  what  Henry 
desired  was  sure  to  be.  Dickie,  unversed  in  these 
things,  did  not  notice,  or  certainly  what  remained  of  his 
cheerfulness  would  have  deserted  him. 

Sotheran,  from  his  seat  beside  Alice,  commanded 
singing.  "  Ormsby,  you  sing.  Something  stirring,  as 
befits  the  times.  We  are  all  soldiers  here  but  one — and 
Mistress  Alice." 

He  bowed  to  Alice ;  Dickie  felt  the  distinction  which 


288  The  Colonials 

left  him  out.  He  was  the  one  that  was  no  soldier;  a 
little  flush  mounted  to  his  temples,  he  smiled  uncomfort- 
ably, and  the  cloud  began  to  deepen. 

"  Dickie  will  be  a  soldier  some  day  with  the  rest," 
cried  Anthony.  "  He  waits  but  to  be  sure  he  should 
join  the  Volunteers." 

"  What  reason  does  he  lack?"  asked  Sotheran.  "  Sure 
you  are  no  Whig,  Dickie?  " 

"  No,"  hesitated  Dickie.  He  was  too  outspoken  to 
conceal  his  reasons.  "  My  brother  begged  me  once  to 
take  no  such  step  until  I  came  of  age." 

'  'Tis  but  ten  weeks  now,"  explained  Anthony. 

"  But  did  you  give  the  promise  ?  "  enquired  Harriman. 

"  No,"  confessed  Dickie,  "  and  yet " 

"  Did  you  think  there  would  be  such  need  of  you  as 
now?"  interrupted  Sotheran. 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  Dickie. 

"  Well !  "  began  Sotheran.  "  But  wait,  if  you  choose, 
of  course.  Sing,  Ormsby." 

Ormsby  began  a  song,  then  much  in  fashion,  with 
rhymes  on  lords  and  swords  and  yield  and  field  and  fly 
and  die.  But  Dickie  felt  the  force  of  Sotheran's  per- 
mission to  do  as  he  pleased,  given  in  a  tone  of  indif- 
ference, of  amusement,  of  surprise,  of  contempt,  all  in 
such  parts  that  their  bitter  mixture  sunk  the  lad  in 
gloom. 

For  Dickie  was  troubled  indeed.  On  the  very  day  of 
Concord  fight  the  Tories  of  the  town,  some  two  hundred 
in  number,  among  them  Anthony  and  young  Oliver 
and  all  his  friends,  had  offered  themselves  to  the  gover- 
nor. They  were  now  enrolled  as  the  Volunteer  Associa- 
tion; his  name  was  solicited  on  all  hands.  Why?  they 
had  asked  when  he  refused,  and  he  could  only  reply: 
My  brother.  Every  argument  was  for  stocism ;  he  was 
urged  to  be  a  Roman.  He  was  waiting;  he  had  held  out, 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle     289 

but  Dickie  could  not  hold  out  long.  All  the  influences 
that  were  strongest — his  uncle's  urging,  his  friends' 
pleading,  his  devotion  to  the  king,  and  the  attraction  of 
a  soldier's  life,  were  working  upon  him,  and  only  the 
love  of  his  brother  held  him  back.  He  had  been  trying 
to  wait  until  his  twenty-first  birthday,  but  doubted  if  he 
could  last.  Each  assault  upon  his  resolution  weakened 
it.  Yet  he  could  not  forget  Frank. 

Alice  perceived  his  depression,  and  spoke  to  Sotheran 
under  cover  of  Ormsby's  noise.  "  Captain,"  she  asked, 
"  is  it  not  sad  enough  that  brothers  should  be  divided 
in  opinion.  Would  you  have  them  enrolled  to  fight  each 
other?  " 

She  saw  that  he  heard,  but  for  a  moment  he  did  not 
answer,  sitting  as  one  that  thinks.  When  he  raised  his 
eyes  to  hers  he  was  very  serious. 

"  Mistress  Alice,"  he  answered,  "  I  can  imagine  only 
one  thing  worse,  which  is  to  have  both  brothers  against 
the  king." 

He  had  silenced  her. 

"  You  will  understand  me,"  he  pursued,  studying  her 
face.  "  I  have  no  personal  feeling.  This  rebellion  I 
consider  most  shocking.  Those  that  abet  it  I  condemn. 
All  should  unite  in  suppressing  it." 

"  I  suppose  that  you  are  right,"  she  answered. 

The  admission  was  forced  from  her.  She  could  see 
both  sides,  and  perceived — in  Frank  and  in  her  brother 
—that  each  might  think  itself  right.  The  fight  promised 
to  be  stubborn.  It  was  acknowledged  that  the  defences 
of  the  rebels  at  Roxbury,  blocking  the  Neck,  were  so 
strong  that  Gage  must  wait  for  reinforcements.  Be- 
sides, beyond  were  hills,  and  hills  behind  hills,  and  a 
united  province.  Was  the  general  not  right  in  desiring 
volunteers? 

Sotheran  spoke  again  at  her  side.    "  I  shall  even  feel 


290  The  Colonials 

justified,"  he  said,  "  in  persuading  young  Mr.  Ellery  to 
join  the  Volunteers." 

"  Not  here,"  she  said,  starting.  "  You  may  be  right; 
I  cannot  judge.  But  not  in  my  presence,  Captain 
Sotheran." 

"  I  will  not,"  he  promised. 

And  he  did  not.  He  saw  that  Anthony,  encouraged 
by  his  words,  was  ready  to  re-open  the  subject.  Among 
the  younger  Tories  the  warlike  spirit  was  aroused;  and 
Anthony  needed  little  encouragement  to  hammer,  in 
season  and  out,  at  his  friend  to  gain  his  consent.  But 
Sotheran,  watchful,  turned  the  subject  whenever  it  be- 
came dangerous,  ordered  the  others  to  sing  in  turn, 
sang  himself,  drew  as  a  reward  a  song  from  Alice,  and 
finally,  sweeping  almost  the  whole  company  with  him, 
said  good  night  and  left  the  house. 

"  I  am  obliged  to  you,"  said  Alice  as  he  left. 

She  held  out  her  hand,  smiling  brightly. 

He  drew  back.  "  I  do  not  know  if  I  can  take  your 
hand,"  he  said.  "  My  sentiments  are  the  same." 

"  And  soldierly,"  she  answered,  still  offering  her  hand. 
"  Neither  you  nor  I  are  responsible  for  the  times.  I 
thank  you  for  what  you  have  done,  not  for  what  you  may 
feel  you  must  do." 

He  experienced  a  thrill  as  he  touched  her,  a  thrill 
that  was  familiar  to  him.  In  the  once  cold  chimney  of 
his  nature  his  love  was  now  burning.  It  was  a  strong 
fire  and  large,  at  times  warming  and  cheering,  at  others 
plaguing  and  torturing  him.  For  he  had  reached  the 
necessity  of  self-restraint,  and  it  was  hard  to  learn. 

But  he  was  learning  it,  in  view  of  its  rewards.  Twice 
he  had  denied  himself  the  pleasure — the  certain  pleasure 
— of  killing  Ellery.  To  ruin  him  before  all  eyes  was  his 
intention;  to  bring  him,  not  mere  sudden  death,  but  first 
disgrace.  To  implicate  him  in  this  twopenny  rebellion; 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle     291 

to  see  him  imprisoned,  tried,  and  executed,  would  be  a 
revenge  worth  waiting.  Sotheran  gloated  over  the  idea 
of  Ellery  in  a  cell,  chained  and  condemned  to  death, 
thinking  of  Alice  who  was  lost  to  him.  Till  then  the 
captain  could  afford  to  delay  his  own  courtship. 

Dickie  lingered  a  moment  behind,  where  Harley, 
clinging  to  his  place,  hoped  for  a  quarter  hour  of  quiet 
talk  before  he,  too,  must  leave. 

"  Alice,"  said  Dickie,  "  tell  me  what  I  should  do." 

Bright  as  she  was  from  her  farewell  to  Sotheran,  she 
instantly  grew  grave.  "  You  mean,  should  you  volun- 
teer? "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Dickie. 

"  How  can  I  advise?  "  she  returned. 

"  It  seems  as  if  I  ought,"  he  said.  "  This  is  a  re- 
bellion— men  are  needed — and  one  must  follow  his  con- 
victions." Dickie  spoke  as  if  he  had  opinions  of  his 
own. 

"  Yes,"  she  agreed. 

"  But  when  I  think  of  Frank,"  he  said,  "  I—"  His 
face  and  his  voice  showed  all  he  felt.  "  I  am  willing  to 
wish  I  were  a  coward." 

"  Poor  Dickie,"  she  said  gently. 

"  And  cannot  you  advise  me?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  cannot,"  she  said.  "  Dear  Dickie,  I  know  not 
what  to  say." 

Dickie  was  all  at  sea.  And  when,  joining  his  friends 
outside,  he  found  them  waiting  with  an  invitation  to  a 
little  supper  at  the  British  coffee-house,  he  foresaw  the 
trial  that  awaited  him  there.  Here  was  Anthony,  with 
those  five  officers  whose  brilliancy  and  gaiety  so  much 
attracted  him.  He  feared  them,  and  hesitated. 

"  Oh,  come,"  urged  Anthony.  "  Captain  Sotheran 
gives  the  supper.  "  Twill  not  be  late,  for  at  midnight 
the  captain  goes  on  guard." 


292 


The  Colonials 


Dickie  doubted  his  own  strength,  and  still  held  back. 
As  he  had  just  now  sought  Alice's  advice,  so  he  desired, 
before  venturing  into  such  company,  a  word  with  Frank. 

"  Let  me  go  home  first,"  he  said;  "  then  I'll  join  you." 

"To  speak  with  your  brother?"  enquired  Anthony 
anxiously. 

"  Yes,"  admitted  Dickie. 

Anthony  would  have  begun  to  argue,  but  Sotheran 
stepped  between.  "A  word  with  you,"  he  said;  and 
with  his  hand  on  Dickie's  shoulder  led  the  lad  a  little 
way  apart.  Their  heads  were  on  a  level,  the  light  of  a 
smoky  street  lamp  fell  on  Sotheran's  face,  and  Dickie 
saw  the  look  of  interest  which,  coming  frequently  in 
their  recent  intercourse,  nevertheless  always  was  a  sur- 
prise and  a  pleasure.  It  was  a  privilege  for  which  fie 
was  envied,  and  which,  bestowed  by  the  most  admired 
of  the  fashionable  officers,  he  highly  prized. 

"  Dickie,"  said  the  captain  with  an  open  smile,  "  you 
know  which  way  we  all  hope  you  will  decide.  Yet 
never  mind  Paddock;  go  home  and  speak  with  your 
brother  if  you  wish;  you  are  quite  right  to  do  so. 
But  come  then  and  join  our  little  supper;  I  quite  de- 
pend on  you.  You  will  come?  Then  we  will  wait  for 
you.  An  rn'oir." 

Dickie  took  one  step  away.  Should  he  go?  Need 
he  go?  The  reasons  why  he  should  consult  with  Frank 
seemed  less.  Should  he  speak  with  him  at  all?  He 
turned  back. 

"  I  will  go  with  you,"  he  said. 


At  midnight,  nearing  the  house,  Dickie  paused  as  he 
saw  the  lamp  still  burning  in  the  library,  and  Frank  sit- 
ting reading.  But  he  entered  bravely,  and  went  straight 
to  his  brother.  Frank  turned  and  looked  at  him.  He 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle     293 

knew  that  Dickie  had  gone  with  Anthony;  he  feared 
the  result.  That  questioning,  intense  glance  Dickie 
never  forgot.  Affection  and  anxiety,  self-command  and 
resolution,  were  mingled  there. 

''  Frank,"  said  Dickie,  "  I  have  joined  the  volun- 
teers." 

Frank  paled,  but  he  had  been  prepared.  "  Very  well," 
he  answered. 

"  Is  there  nothing,"  faltered  Dickie,  "  that  you  wish  to 
say  to  me?  " 

"  God  bless  you,"  answered  his  brother;  "  that  is  all." 

The  sadness  in  Frank's  face,  the  deep  affection  of  his 
tone,  were  too  much  for  Dickie.  He  could  not  stay, 
but  went  quickly  to  his  room.  Almost  Frank  made  him 
unsure  of  himself.  Who  was  right — his  friends,  the 
governor,  and  the  king,  or  this  terribly  steadfast 
brother? 

He  went  to  bed,  and  found  himself  listening  for  Frank 
to  come  upstairs.  It  was  just  after  midnight,  that  he 
knew.  He  waited  long;  Frank  did  not  come,  and 
Dickie,  tired  with  his  mental  struggle,  fell  asleep;  but 
with  the  burden  still  on  his  mind.  Later  he  awoke,  and 
heard  the  clock  strike  three.  Then  next  his  brother 
came  up  the  stairs,  and  went  to  his  room. 

Now  came  Dickie's  turn  to  think.  He  pictured  to 
himself  Frank's  state  of  mind,  and  dwelt  upon  his  broth- 
er's blessing. 

They  did  not  drift  farther  apart  in  the  days  that  fol- 
lowed. With  a  wide  separation  impending,  tenderness 
grew  in  the  heart  of  each,  and  knit  the  brothers  closer. 


CHAPTER  VI 

WAITING 

Farmers  and  tradesmen,  having  suddenly  become 
generals  and  colonels,  endeavoured  to  give  shape  to  an 
army  which  day  by  day  grew  larger  and  more  unwieldy. 
A  loose-knit  force,  held  together  by  zeal,  but  not  yet  a 
unit,  was  camped  round  about  Boston.  Of  actual  siege 
operations  there  was  practically  nothing  at  the  begin- 
ning. Slight  earthworks  were  thrown  across  the  road 
at  Roxbury,  but  that  was  all.  Able  as  the  rebels  were 
in  individual  fighting,  as  an  army  they  would  have 
counted  for  little,  but  for  British  generalship. 

Gage,  looking  about  him  on  all  sides,  saw  spectres 
rise  from  each.  If  the  rebels,  in  their  astonishing  en- 
thusiasm, should  attack;  if  the  citizens  should  rise 
against  him;  if  the  town  should  be  burnt  over  his  head: 
then  he  would  be  in  a  pretty  pickle.  These  contingencies 
and  their  possible  results  concealed  from  him  his  own 
undoubted  strength.  He  hurried  work  on  defences  al- 
ready strong  enough,  and,  far  from  seizing  the  only  two 
points  from  which  he  could  be  assailed,  turned  his  at- 
tention toward  disarming  foes  within  the  town. 

The  selectmen  waited  upon  him  with  the  keys  of 
Faneuil  Hall. 

"Have  all  the  citizens  given  up  their  arms?"  the 
general  suspiciously  enquired. 

"  All  who  desire  to  do  so,"  was  the  reply. 

The  secretary,  at  the  governor's   side,   said  it  was 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle     295 

whispered  that  the  ropemakers  had  delivered  no  mus- 
kets at  the  hall. 

"  And  they  are  known  to  have  bought  arms,"  cried 
the  general.  "  This  is  against  the  agreement." 

"  As  it  was  also  against  the  agreement,"  said  Mr. 
Timothy  Newell,  who  spoke  for  the  selectmen,  "  to  pro- 
hibit Mr.  Ellery  and  Mr.  Knox  from  leaving  the  town. 
Mr.  Ellery  is  idolized  by  the  men  of  his  trade.  No  rope- 
maker  would  give  up  his  arms  after  that." 

"  Give  here  the  keys,"  demanded  the  governor  hastily. 

Mr.  Newell  withheld  them.  "  It  is  understood  that 
no  further  restriction  shall  be  laid  on  those  who  wish  to 
leave?"  he  stipulated. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  general. 

"  Even  the  ropemakers,"  insisted  the  selectman. 

"  Yes — and  glad  to  be  rid  of  them,"  added  Gage  to 
himself. 

The  keys  were  delivered,  and  the  agreement  went  into 
halting  operation.  But  it  was  observed  that  no  rope- 
maker  left  the  town.  The  general  might  enjoy  the 
unpleasant  consideration  that  two  hundred  of  the  hardi- 
est Yankees-,  trouble-breeders  since  before  the  Massa- 
cre, were  ready  at  any  time  to  take  up  arms  at  his  back. 

And  counting  his  force  too  weak  in  numbers  to  act 
aggressively,  the  general  left  the  enemy  to  strengthen 
their  lines  against  him,  to  drill  in  peace,  to  increase  their 
military  stores,  and  finally  to  act  themselves.  It  was 
the  misfortune  of  England  at  this  juncture  that  her 
great  generals  and  admirals  were  all  Whigs.  While 
Amherst  and  Keppel  refused  to  enter  the  field,  and 
others  as  capable  were  out  of  favour  with  the  court, 
such  men  as  Graves  and  Montagu  commanded  the 
fleet  at  Boston,  and  Gage,  by  his  inaction,  daily  gave 
confidence  to  the  rebels. 

Captain  Sotheran  settled  down  to  wait  the  fulfilment 


296  The  Colonials 

of  his  revenge.  He  had  succeeded  so  far;  in  the  re- 
mainder also  he  would  succeed.  He  saw  Dickie  in  his 
new  uniform  in  the  ranks  of  the  volunteers;  he  knew 
that  Frank  would  come  no  more  to  the  little  house.  He 
awaited  now  some  message  from  Doctor  Church. 

Brush  came  to  the  captain  one  day,  and  asked  a  few 
minutes'  interview.  "  My  good  man,"  said  Sotheran  at 
once,  "  I  have  no  money  for  you." 

"  Supposing  I  have  for  you?  "  insinuated  the  othei. 

"  I  will  have  none  of  yours,"  answered  the  captain 
haughtily. 

"  But,"  said  Brush,  with  a  leer,  "  if  you  can  prick 
Frank  Ellery,  what  then?  " 

"  Walk  aside  with  me  here,"  said  Sotheran.  "  Now, 
what  have  you  to  say?  " 

Merely  that  Roger  was  beginning  to  look  sickly,  and 
— "  yes,"  said  Brush  doggedly,  *'  it  is  my  business — " 
Roger  was  a  boy  that  might  mean,  not  very  far  in  the 
future,  a  good  deal  of  money,  and  a  revenge. 

"  Explain!  "  commanded  the  captain. 

"Why,"  answered  Brush;  "  Roger's  Mr.  Ellery's  son, 
isn't  he?  And  Dickie  Ellery  may  be  killed,  now  he's 
an  Associator,  in  the  first  fight,  mayn't  he?  And  Frank 
Ellery  is  a  rebel,  or  as  good,  isn't  he?  " 

"  What  then?  "  asked  the  other. 

"  They  are  speaking  of  confiscating  the  rebels'  prop- 
erty," pursued  Brush.  "  And  if  Dickie  is  killed,  then 
Roger  becomes  heir,  doesn't  he?  Wouldn't  Frank  enjoy 
that,  Roger  belonging  to  us?  " 

The  captain  looked  at  him  long  and  fixedly.  He  drew 
out  his  purse  and  handed  a  guinea  to  Brush.  Then, 
with  his  face  unmoved,  he  turned  away.  But  Roger, 
from  that  time  forth,  was  dressed  in  a  page's  suit,  and 
Tabb  had  orders  to  feed  him  better.  "  And,"  said  the 
captain  to  the  boy,  thinking  that  this  would  please  El- 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle     297 

lery  little,  "  if  you're  quiet  and  quick,  you  shall  attend 
me  when  I  walk  abroad." 

Time  passed,  and  for  Frank  Ellery  heavily  enough. 
His  first  occupation,  of  assisting  from  the  town  those 
who  wished  to  go,  soon  began  to  fail.  Applications  for 
passes  were  still  numerous,  but  it  became  evident  that 
the  general  did  not  intend  to  keep  his  word.  At  first,  ap- 
plicants were  denied  the  right  to  carry  out  their  goods; 
then  when,  at  first  indignant,  they  finally  resolved  to 
accept  these  terms,  they  were  forbidden  to  take  with 
them  more  than  five  pounds  in  money.  To  fathers  of 
families,  not  knowing  what  they  should  do  for  support, 
this  was  a  further  check.  Then  passes  were  given  which 
separated  families,  wives  from  husbands,  or  children 
from  parents,  and  were  therefore  useless. 

"  See  what  we  have  accomplished,"  explained  An- 
thony to  Mr.  Ellery,  one  day  in  the  library.  "  Tis  the 
volunteers  have  done  this.  By  threat  of  laying  down 
our  arms  and  leaving  the  town,  we  have  induced  the 
general  to  prevent  the  inhabitants  from  leaving." 

"Good,  good!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Ellen*,  rubbing  his 
hands. 

"  It  seems,  don't  you  think,"  asked  Dickie,  "  a  bit 
unmanly  to  keep  the  women  and  children  here,  just  to 
prevent  an  attack?  " 

"  It's  to  protect  our  women  and  children!  "  cried  An- 
thony. "What  care  the  Whigs  for  them* 

Frank,  passing  the  library  door,  caught  the  words, 
and  understood  the  question.  He  paused  at  the  thres- 
hold and  spoke. 

"What  of  the  general's  promise?"  he  asked.  "And 
what  of  the  townspeople's  arms,  which  they  gave  up  to 
secure  it?  Will  he  return  them  no- 

"  What  promise?  "  asked  Dickie;  but  Frank  had  gone. 


298  The  Colonials 

Anthony  blustered,  Mr.  Ellery  smoothed,  and  the  topic 
was  turned. 

But  Frank  was  left  idle.  Doctor  Warren  had  said: 
"  Go  to  the  town,  watch  events,  and  wait.  I  may  need 
you."  Watching  and  waiting  grew  wearisome  at  last, 
until  one  day  he  found  how  he  could  busy  himself. 

He  took  lessons  of  the  men  he  meant  to  fight.  Frank 
stood  by  the  groups  that  drilled  on  the  squares,  and 
studied  the  art  of  the  sergeant.  He  sat  himself  on  the 
slopes  of  Beacon  Hill,  and  examined  the  panoramic 
camp  below.  More,  he  rummaged  Knox's  shelves  for 
books  on  military  subjects.  He  read  the  Campaigns 
of  Frederick,  and  possessed  himself  of  the  spirit  of  the 
master  of  strategy. 

The  more  he  studied,  the  more  he  comprehended  the 
struggle  that  lay  before  regular  and  rebel.  He  proved 
his  unskilled  instincts  true,  the  instincts  that  showed 
him  the  two  keys  to  Boston.  Still  they  stood  bare, 
those  fateful  hills,  as  neither  Briton  nor  American  made 
a  move  to  take  them.  Often  Frank  looked  to  the 
Heights  and  to  Bunker  Hill,  and  longed  to  see  them 
crowned  with  redoubts  and  bristling  with  the  arms  of 
his  countrymen.  But  one  day,  when  to  Knox  he  spoke 
his  desire,  the  older  man  repressed  his  impatience. 

"You  wish  too  much,  Ellery,"  said  Knox  soberly; 
"far  too  much.  I  have  the  same  desire;  but  think  of 
our  army  over  there  " — and  he  waved  his  hand  toward 
Cambridge.  "  Can  you  figure  the  lack  of  organisation  ? 
Who  are  the  generals?  Heath  and  Ward,  old  and 
feeble.  Enthusiasm  keeps  the  whole  together  as  yet, 
but  pray  heaven  that  the  younger  minds  soon  take  the 
lead,  or  the  army  will  fall  apart  of  its  own  weight." 

Frank's  spirits  Lll. 

"  I  see  this  disappoints  you,"  said  Knox.  "  Fear  not; 
Congress  must  uphold  us.  If  they  appoint  a  general 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle     299 

of  force,  this  siege  is  won.  But  'tis  too  soon,  as  yet,  to 
hope  for  aggressive  measures." 

"  How  soon?  "  asked  Frank. 

"  A  month — two  months,  perhaps.  But  unless  Gage 
has  lost  his  wits  he  will  seize  the  Heights.  Twas  said, 
as  I  remember,  that  he  was  planning  a  fort  there,  but 
the  plan  was  not  finished  before  the  day  of  Lexington." 


CHAPTER  VII 
BARBARA'S  GATE 

There  was  plenty  of  social  pleasure  in  the  besieged 
town.  The  spinet  in  Alice's  parlour  tinkled  often  in 
the  evening,  and  during  the  day  there  were  the  same 
fashionable  promenades.  The  thrill  of  expectation  gave 
more  interest  to  life,  as  the  possibility  that  each  day 
might  bring  forth  important  matters  excited  all  minds. 
There  were  the  same  number  of  assemblies  at  night, 
but  in  the  day  the  former  pleasures  were  increased  by 
parties  made  up  to  view  the  new  fortifications. 

It  was  in  returning  from  one  of  these  parties  that 
Captain  Tudor  met  with  an  unforgettable  experience. 
They  had  been  to  "  the  lines  "  at  the  Neck,  and  Mistress 
Oliver  had  giggled,  Lady  Caroline  exclaimed,  at  the 
strength  of  the  defences.  They  had  looked  through 
glasses  at  the  rebel  entrenchments,  and  united  in  de- 
preciating them.  Now,  returning,  Lady  Harriet  had 
brought  up  one  of  the  great  topics  of  the  hour. 

"  When  the  new  generals  arrive,"  she  had  asked,  "  we 
may  expect  to  sweep  the  country  of  the  rebels?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  assuredly,"  the  group  of  officers  replied 
in  chorus;  and  Ormsby  explained  with  animation  how 
Howe  was  brave,  Burgoyne  brilliant,  and  Clinton  dash- 
ing ;  and  now  "  Tommy,"  though  he  would  still  retain 
command,  would  have  new  life  put  into  him. 

They  reached  the  streets  of  the  town,  and  came  to  a 
familiar  garden,  where  Tudor  contrived  to  drop  behind. 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle     301 

The  others  went  on,  gaily  chatting,  but  he,  looking 
among  the  already  luxuriant  growths,  saw  behind  a 
row  of  hollyhocks  a  pair  of  bright  eyes  glancing.  Yet 
they  looked  from  under  puckered  brows,  and  Barbara 
Savage,  when  she  saw  Tudor  halting  at  the  gate,  seemed 
to  come  forward  with  reluctance  to  speak  with  him. 

"What  a  charming  garden,  Mistress  Savage!"  he 
began.  It  was  the  gardener,  not  the  garden,  that  held 
his  eyes,  for  her  round,  firm  arm,  bare  to  the  elbow, 
and  her  countenance  within  its  sunbonnet,  were  lovelier 
to  him  than  budding  flowers. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered;  "  the  year  is  as  forward  as  an- 
other in  June."  She  finished  her  sentence  without  a 
smile,  and  closed  her  red  lips,  looking  upon  him  steadily. 

He  had  not  seen  her  for  a  fortnight,  and  then  it  was 
only  for  a  moment  on  the  street.  He  had  felt  the  need 
of  accident,  or  a  real  excuse,  to  bring  them  together, 
and  besides,  the  officers  had  all  been  very  busy.  But 
now  that  he  was  with  her,  he  was  minded  to  seize  the 
opportunity.  The  gate  was  slightly  ajar;  he  put  out 
his  hand  to  it. 

"May  I  not  come  in  and  view  your  flowers?"  he 
asked. 

Barbara's  little  hand  went  forward  quickly.  It  caught 
the  gate  before  he  touched  it,  and  pushed  it  shut.  The 
latch  clicked,  and  while  her  black  eyes  began  to  glint, 
something  snapped  in  Tudor's  brain. 

"  Eh?  "  he  cried. 

"  Officers'  gates  are  not  free  to  rebels,"  Barbara  said. 
"  Must  rebels'  gates  be  free  in  return?  I  am  a  rebel, 
sir!  " 

The  little  head  was  up;  the  eyes  looked  into  his  de- 
fiantly. Yes,  Barbara  could  fight.  Tudor  knew  that 
she  referred  to  Frank — here  was  his  act  recoiling  on 
his  head. 


302  The  Colonials 

"Mistress  Savage!"  he  exclaimed. 

Her  hand  went  now  to  the  latch,  and  raised  it.  For 
an  instant  he  thought  she  had  relented,  but  she  unde- 
ceived him.  "  Yet  if  you  come  to  search  for  hidden 
arms — "  she  said ;  and  opened  the  gate. 

"  No,  madam!  "  he  cried. 

She  shut  the  gate  again.  "  I  understand  that  the 
king's  officers  sometimes  bow  to  rebels,"  she  said. 
"You  may  bow  to  me  when  we  meet;  you  may  ask 
me  how  I  do;  I  will  respond  that  I  am  very  well.  At 
this  minute,  Captain  Tudor,  I  am  very  well  indeed." 

He  recovered  himself,  and  took  his  dismissal  gal- 
lantly. "  Mistress  Savage,"  he  said,  bowing  very  low, 
"  I  rejoice  in  your  good  health."  Then  he  went  away, 
the  most  military  figure  of  the  military,  concealing 
under  a  stony  face  his  astonishment  and  chagrin.  His 
friends  were  far  ahead;  he  turned  aside  and  did  not 
join  them. 

But  that  evening  at  the  coffee-house,  hearing  An- 
thony again  boasting  of  the  volunteers'  success  in  keep- 
ing the  Whig  women  in  the  town,  Tudor  suddenly  en- 
quired: "  Do  you  suppose  that  this  manoeuvre  of  yours 
has  kept  Mistress  Savage  from  going  out?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Dickie  at  once.  "  Mr.  Savage  was 
about  to  send  her  away,  but  all  passes  are  now  refused." 

"Then  confound  your  Association!"  cried  Tudor 
from  the  depths  of  his  heart;  and  amid  the  astonished 
silence  of  regulars  and  volunteers,  he  stalked  away. 

The  three  new  generals  came,  and  the  new  troops 
went  into  the  quarters  that  were  assigned  to  them. 
Now,  it  was  said  on  all  hands,  great  things  would 
happen.  Burgoyne  demanded  elbow-room.  "  Elbow- 
room!  "  repeated  all  the  Tories,  pleased  with  the 
phrase. 

Those  skirmishes  in  the  harbour  that  followed,  were 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle     303 

they  for  elbow-room?  Burgoyne's  eloquent  complaints 
to  the  ministry  at  home,  that  a  pound  of  fresh  mutton 
could  only  be  bought  for  its  weight  in  gold — did  this 
mean  that  "  new  life  "  had  been  put  into  "  Tommy?  " 

"  Ho!  "  said  Anthony  one  evening.  He  had  come 
to  the  Elllery  house,  and  found  the  three  Ellerys  most 
unusually  together,  at  a  meal  over  which  solemnity  pre- 
sided, and  silence  did  her  best  to  lend  an  aspect  of 
thought.  "  Ho!  the  general  was  wise  to  send  no  more 
troops  to  Noddle's  Island.  Lives  are  worth  more  than 
trifling  stores,  and  the  schooner  we  lost  was  old." 

Dickie's  terrible  frankness  brought  a  semblance  of 
disunion.  "  Why,"  he  cried,  "  she  was  brand  new,  and 
had  good  cannon." 

Anthony,  turning  a  soft  pink  like  his  hair,  disre- 
garded. "  Cattle,"  he  said,  "  have  come  from  Halifax, 
and  the  troops  are  to  have  two  days'  fresh  provision 
next  week." 

Frank  laughed  aloud;  he  could  not  help  it.  "An- 
thony, do  you  know  that  your  '  trifling  stores  '  on  Nod- 
dle's Island  were  some  three  hundred  sheep  and  cattle; 
that  the  militia  took  off  from  other  islands  in  the  har- 
bour, this  past  week  alone,  above  fifteen  hundred 
head?" 

"  And  our  ships  command  the  harbour,"  cried  Dickie. 
"  The  rebels  have  but  whaleboats." 

"Come  on!  Come  away!"  muttered  Anthony;  and 
hurried  Dickie  to  the  coffee-house. 

The  meal  was  finished,  but  Frank  still  sat  at  the  table. 
He  had  watched  Dickie  go;  he  knew  he  went  to  asso- 
ciate with  Sotheran,  and  the  knowledge  hurt.  It  was 
growing  hard,  this  time  of  waiting.  Was  it  worth  the 
cost?  From  time  to  time  to  glimpse  Alice  at  a  dis- 
tance, always  surrounded  by  her  bodyguard  of  redcoats, 
frequently  with  Sotheran  towering  above  the  rest,  was 


304  The  Colonials 

very  hard  to  bear.  Was  it  worth  it?  What  purpose 
was  he  serving  Doctor  Warren  by  staying  in  the  town? 

Mr.  Ellery  had  listened  without  speaking,  and  still 
sat  opposite  his  nephew,  grinning  nervously.  Frank's 
continued  presence  at  the  house  embarrassed  and  dis- 
pleased him. 

"  If  you  are  so  proud  of  your  friends  without,"  he 
asked  when  he  dared,  "  why  do  you  not  join  them? 
Ann  boasts  you  can,  whenever  you  please." 

Frank  roused  himself  and  rose.  He  looked  down 
upon  his  uncle  with  the  cold  glance  that  Mr.  Ellery 
hated.  Impelled  by  his  mood,  the  young  man  spoke 
the  truth  in  a  threat: 

"  You  will  know  one  reason,  if  I  stay  till  Dickie's 
birthday  comes."  He  left  the  room. 

He  could  not  see  that  joy  and  great  trouble,  that  the 
second  desire  of  his  heart,  with  the  greatest  danger  of 
his  life,  were  to  follow  that  expression. 

Yet  had  he  known  the  difficulties  that  were  to  follow 
his  words,  he  would  scarcely  have  cared.  Inaction  was 
chafing  him  sorely;  the  slow  passage  of  the  days,  with 
nothing  doing,  was  enough  to  make  him  welcome  some- 
thing new.  The  tooth  of  love  unsatisfied  was  wearing 
him;  pity  for  his  fellow-townsmen  bore  hard  upon 
him;  and  the  word — for  to  the  Whigs  in  Boston  regu- 
larly came,  through  more  than  one  source,  news  from 
outside — that  Congress  had  at  last  appointed  as  gen- 
eral for  the  army  Washington,  the  Virginian,  of  whom 
men  spoke  so  well,  meant  that  there  would  soon  be 
decisive  action.  A  restless  desire  to  do  was  welling  up 
within  Frank.  Like  an  over-filled  reservoir,  he  was 
almost  ready  to  burst  his  bonds. 

But  if  Frank  had  thrust  a  knife  into  his  uncle,  and 
then  turned  it  in  the  wound,  Mr.  Ellery  would  not  have 
been  in  more  pain.  His  nephew  had  threatened  what 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle     305 

was  worse  than  physical  death.  True,  Humphreys  was 
dead,  there  was  no  other  witness  left,  and  the  aspect 
of  the  new  set  of  books  was  perfect.  The  old  set  was 
not  destroyed — Mr.  Ellery  needed  them  a  little  longer 
in  comparing  for  mistakes — but  they  would  be  gone 
before  Dickie's  birthday.  The  trustee  was,  therefore, 
well  prepared  against  a  lawsuit,  and  as  a  loyal  subject 
had  every  advantage  over  the  suspected  rebel.  Yet  he 
shrank  from  the  struggle. 

Therefore,  after  an  hour  of  writhing,  wherein  cold 
fits  of  fear  of  Frank  alternated  with  the  deepest  thought, 
Mr.  Ellery  decided  to  go  to  see  his  strongest  friend, 
who  also  was  Frank's  strongest  enemy.  Yes,  even 
though  he  must  meet  Roger  there — plague  take  the 
boy! — he  would  go  to  Captain  Sotheran.  He  went,  and 
on  his  return  rubbed  his  hands  when  safe  from  obser- 
vation, and  shook  his  bony  fist  at  Frank's  room.  A 
little  longer,  and  a  little  cleverness — then  all  would  be 
arranged. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

INFORMATION 

Frank  was  thinking  of  Roger.  Out  in  the  street,  half 
an  hour  before,  he  had  seen  the  boy  following  Sotheran. 
The  sharp,  nervous  face  had  been  dear  to  him;  the  in- 
gratitude of  a  dependent  or  a  child  cuts  deep,  and  Frank, 
sitting  in  the  library  with  a  book  on  fortification,  paused 
a  moment  to  sigh  as  he  thought  of  the  boy.  There  came 
a  rap  at  the  window. 

Roger  himself  was  peering  through  the  glass.  Frank, 
moved  more  than  he  cared  to  show,  sat  still  and  looked 
at  him. 

"  Master  Frank,"  cried  the  boy,  "  let  me  in!  " 

"  The  front  door  is  unlocked,"  was  the  reply.  Roger 
entered  the  library  slowly,  and  stood  before  Frank  with 
head  as  low  as  if  he  had  been  in  fault. 

"  Well,  Roger,"  said  Frank,  with  gentle  reproach, 
"  what  brings  you  back?  " 

Roger  looked'up;  tears  were  in  his  eyes.  "  I  meant 
it  for  the  best,"  he  said.  "  I  have  news  for  you,  sir.  I 
have  been  watching  all  this  while." 

"  You,  Roger?  "  exclaimed  Frank. 

"  Every  minute,"  cried  the  boy,  with  a  burst  of  emo- 
tion; "every  minute  of  four  months,  sir.  I  burned  a 
letter  once,  Master  Frank,  that  would  have  sent  you  to 
prison.  Now — 

But  Frank  sprang  up  and  caught  him  by  the  shoul- 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle     307 

ders.  "Roger,  what  is  this?"  he  cried,  and  drew  the 
boy  toward  him.  Almost  sobbing  his  relief,  Roger  told 
of  the  letter  which  the  muffled  visitor  had  brought  to 
Sotheran. 

"  Truly,"  said  Frank,  "  it  might  have  hanged  me. 
But  there  is  a  traitor  somewhere."  He  questioned  the 
boy  closely,  yet  could  not  find  who  the  cloaked  man 
was — only  this  more,  that  letters  came  to  the  captain 
every  little  while,  that  they  were  writen  in  numerals, 
that  the  captain  turned  them  all  into  proper  script,  and 
took  them  to  the  general. 

"Who  could  send  these?"  asked  Frank  of  himself. 
He  found  no  answer. 

"  And  now — "  cried  Roger  eagerly,  and  told  his  news. 
Last  night  two  officers  had  met  Sotheran  at  his  room. 
All  three  had  been  dressed  in  homespun,  and  near  mid- 
night, well  cloaked,  they  had  gone  to  the  Neck.  At  the 
lines  they  had  left  their  cloaks,  with  Roger  to  hold  them, 
and,  looking  like  Yankee  farmers,  had  passed  out  into 
the  darkness.  And,  Roger  said,  they  had  studied  at 
the  room,  and  Sotheran  carried  with  him,  a  piece  of 
paper  with  a  curious  drawing  on  it — a  diagram,  like  a 
star  of  many  points. 

"The  plan  of  a  fort!"  cried  Frank;  and  his  heart 
sank.  He  remembered  Knox's  words.  "  Did  they  go," 
he  asked  quickly,  "  to  Dorchester  Heights?  " 

They  returned  at  early  twilight,  Roger*  said,  from  that 
direction;  and  that  was  the  only  place  they  could  have 
visited  without  passing  the  American  lines.  They  took 
their  cloaks  and  went  again  to  Sotheran's  room,  where 
the  boy  served  them  with  wine  while  they  marked,  with 
ink,  figures  upon  the  drawing. 

"Measurements!"  cried  Frank  with  certainty. 

Then,  described  the  boy,  the  two  officers  went 
away  very  merrily,  and  Captain  Sotheran  slept  until 


308  The  Colonials 

nine  o'clock;  but  the  paper  was  buttoned  in  his  breas':. 
At  nine  Roger  attended  the  captain  to  the  general,  who 
welcomed  him  and  took  him  into  a  room.  Roger  waited 
until  the  door  opened  again,  then  he  heard  the  general 
say:  "Sunday  night.  You  shall  go  with  the  detach- 
ment if  you  desire."  Then  the  captain  told  the  boy  to 
go  home,  but  he  had  slipped  away  to  Master  Frank. 

"  I  don't  understand  it,"  finished  Roger,  "  and  it  may 
not  be  important;  but  I  thought  that  you  would  know." 

"Important?"  cried  Frank.  "  'Tis  the  most  impor- 
tant happening  yet!  Roger,  you  deserve  everything 
from  us  " — the  boy's  eyes  shone — "  and  yet,  what  is  to 
be  done?" 

Only  one  thing,  he  saw  at  once;  one  thing  upon  a 
slender  hope.  If  the  army  outside  were  strong  enough 
to  risk  a  battle,  if  they  could  seize  the  Heights  and  hold 
them,  they  might  drive  the  British  from  the  town.  If 
and  if.  But  whatever  should  be  done  must  be  done  at 
once;  there  were  but  four  days  to  anticipate  the  scheme; 
and  hurriedly  Frank  took  a  pen  and  wrote. 

"  I  have,"  were  his  words,  "  intelligence  that  the  gov- 
ernor means  to  seize  and  fortify  Dorchester  Heights  on 
the  night  of  Sunday,  the  eighteenth." 

That  was  enough.  Nick  would  take  the  note  to  the 
mainland  that  night.  Frank  paused  and  thought,  then 
signed  his  full  name,  "  Francis  Ellery,"  that  there  might 
be  no  doubt  of  the  information.  Then,  as  he  addressed 
the  note  to  Doctor  Warren,  the  thought  came:  "  If  there 
is  to  be  a  fight,  I  must  be  there ;  "  and  he  added  the 
postscript:  "  May  I  not  now  leave  the  town?" 

To  go,  to  leave  behind  the  town,  with  all  its  frettings, 
and  to  fight  against  the  British!  Roger  had  given  an 
opportunity  to  him  as  well  as  to  his  countrymen.  But 
while  Frank  folded  the  note,  thanking  the  delighted  boy, 
Dickie  entered  the  house  bv  the  front  door,  and  came 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle     309 

into  the  library.  He  scowled  at  Roger,  resenting  the 
lad's  disloyalty  to  Frank. 

"  So  you've  returned,"  he  said.  "  Why  did  you 
come?  " 

"  Because,"  cried  Roger  boldly,  "  I  came  to  warn 
Master  Frank " 

"  Roger,  say  nothing!  "  interrupted  Frank. 

"  I  know  what  I  am  saying,"  answered  Roger. 
"  Master  Dickie,  I  came  to  say  that  your  uncle,  whom 
you  love  so  much,  has  been  plotting  with  Captain 
Sotheran  against  your  brother;  and  I — I  couldn't 
stand  it." 

Dickie  looked  at  him  contemptuously.  "  You  little 
liar!  "  he  said. 

"  Tis  true,"  asserted  Roger. 

"Indeed!"  sneered  Dickie.  "Then  let  me  hear  the 
story,"  he  commanded.  "All.  Out  with  it;  let  me  see 
how  well  you  can  lie." 

He  sneered  again  while  it  was  told.  That  his  uncle 
had  been  to  see  the  captain — pooh!  they  were  barely 
acquainted.  That  his  uncle  wanted  Master  Frank  from 
the  town,  and  the  captain  wanted  him  in  it,  and  said,  if 
Master  Frank  were  arrested,  and  sent  to  London  for 
trial,  wouldn't  that  suit — "Ridiculous!"  cried  Dickie — 
and  Mr.  Ellery  promised  to  watch  everything  Master 
Frank  did,  and  get  scraps  of  his  writings. 

"  You  little  fool!  "  roared  Dickie.    "  When  was  this?  " 

"Day  before  yesterday;  and  I  listened  at  the  door." 

"  Frank,"  cried  Dickie,  "  will  you  strap  him,  or 
-hall  I?" 

"Is  this  true,  Roger?"  asked  Frank. 

'*  It  is  true,"  answered  the  boy. 

"  Surely,  Frank,"  exclaimed  Dickie,  "  you  don't  be- 
lieve that? " 

"  Surelv/   -answered  Frank,  "  I  do." 


310  The  Colonials 

"  And  so  I  came  to  warn  him,"  cried  Roger,  as 
Dickie  stared  at  his  brother,  "  to  mind  everything  he 
does,  to  keep  his  writings  under  lock,  to  do  nothing, 
nothing,  nothing,  that  might  be  reported  against  him!  " 

"  Go,  you  little  devil,"  cried  Dickie,  "  before  I  strike 
you!" 

"  Have  you  said  everything,  Roger? "  enquired 
Frank. 

"  Everything,"  answered  the  boy. 

"  Then  go,"  directed  Frank,  "  lest  you  be  missed." 

Roger  shot  one  defiant  glance  at  Dickie,  who  stood 
red-faced  with  rage.  "It  is  true!  It  is  true!"  he  re- 
peated, and  went  to  the  door.  In  another  moment  they 
saw  him  speeding  out  the  gate. 

"  I  will  ask  you  to  remember,  Dickie,"  said  Frank, 
as  the  two  brothers  turned  and  looked  at  each  other, 
"  that  if  you  let  it  be  known  that  Roger  has  been  here, 
he  will  receive  very  heavy  punishment." 

"I  will  tell  at  once!"  retorted  Dickie,  with  flashing 
eyes.  He  moved  toward  the  door.  "  Where  is  uncle?  " 

Frank  stood  in  front  of  him.  "  Uncle  is  out,"  he 
replied. 

"  Let  me  go!  "  cried  Dickie. 

"  Dickie,"  asked  Frank,  "  would  you  have  the  boy's 
life  on  your  head?" 

"  His  life!  "  exclaimed  Dickie.  "  His  life!  Good  God, 
Frank,  what  do  you  mean?  Can  you  suspect  that  Cap- 
tain Sotheran " 

"  And  uncle,"  put  in  Frank. 

"  And  uncle,  then — would  murder?  " 

"  Would  treat  the  boy  with  great  cruelty,"  answered 
Frank. 

"Are  you  crazy?"  Dickie  almost  shouted. 

"  I  would  I  were,"  answered  Frank,  so  soberly  that 
Dickie  sobered  too. 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle     3 1 1 

"  Frank,"  he  asked  astonished,  "  you  really  believe 
it?" 

"  I  really  believe  it,"  responded  Frank;  "  every  word." 

"  What  has  come  over  you?  "  cried  Dickie.  "  Do  you 
realise  what  the  boy  has  said?  That  any  one  would 
plot  against  your  life — why,  'tis  preposterous!  Uncle 
least  of  all." 

"  Uncle  first  of  all,"  answered  Frank. 

"And  Captain  Sotheran?"  cried  Dickie. 

"  Captain  Sotheran  next,"  was  the  reply. 

"What  can  they  have  against  you?"  demanded 
Dickie,  utterly  amazed,  yet  beginning  to  perceive  his 
brother's  earnestness. 

"  Everything  in  the  world,"  answered  Frank. 

"Are  you  speaking  the  truth?"  asked  Dickie.  "  Do 
you  believe  what  you  say?" 

"  Look  me  in  the  face,"  said  Frank,  "  and  judge  for 
yourself." 

Dickie,  groping  as  in  a  fog,  his  head  whirling  with 
the  shock  of  Frank's  assertion,  looked  at  his  brother. 
Frank  took  his  arm  and  drew  him  closer;  he  put  his 
hands  on  Dickie's  shoulders  and  held  him.  He  felt  the 
frame  of  the  young  man  rising  and  falling  quickly  with 
his  astonished  breath,  and  he  met  in  Dickie's  eyes  the 
demand  for  truth. 

For  the  second  time  in  his  life  Frank  felt  that  a  crisis 
turned  upon  that  which  is  so  great,  and  yet  so  un 
definable,  part  of  a  man — the  glance  of  his  eye.  As 
Aneeb  once,  so  Dickie  now,  searched  his  face  for  mo- 
tives, and  Frank,  meeting  the  scrutiny  fearlessly,  chal- 
lenged suspicion.  He  looked,  and  was  not  afraid;  all 
that  was  in  him  passed  from  his  heart  to  his  brain,  and 
his  eyes  became  windows  for  Dickie  to  see.  Was  there 
craft,  jealousy,  malice,  small  suspicion? 

"  You  believe  it!  "  breathed  Dickie  at  last. 


312  The  Colonials 

"  I  believe  it!  "  repeated  Frank,  releasing  him.  "  Go 
now  to  uncle,  look  at  him  as  you  have  looked  at  me, 
and  see  if  he  will  meet  you.  Go  to  Captain  Sotheran, 
look  him  in  the  face,  and  ask  yourself  if  you  can  trust 
him." 

"  It  is  so  new!  "  gasped  Dickie. 

"  Not  new,"  replied  Frank,  "  if  you  would  but  have 
listened  to  me." 

"  I  must  think,"  answered  Dickie. 

Frank  left  him  to  himself.  Sitting  there  in  the  great 
chair,  staring  at  the  picture  of  his  grandfather,  yet  see- 
ing nothing;  what  did  Dickie  think?  He  had  too  long 
been  cheerful  and  careless,  too  long  trusting.  Here 
was  at  last  an  accusation.  What  was  he  to  do? 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE   BOY   AND   THE    MAN 

The  new  strain  of  exercising  thought,  the  effort  to 
awaken  his  mind,  bore  upon  Dickie  hard.  Merely  to 
suspect  was  foreign  to  him,  but  here  was  a  suspicion, 
well  founded,  that  struck  at  the  very  root  of  his  trust 
in  human  goodness. 

Dickie  had  never  thought.  It  was  not  in  him  to  seek 
trouble;  his  delight  in  activity  was  physical,  not  mental. 
Rough  weather  was  a  joy,  but  a  problem  was  a  hard- 
ship; and  unless  a  thing  were  manifestly  untrue,  he  ac- 
cepted it.  Mr.  Ellery's  careful  consideration  of  Dickie's 
inborn  prejudices  had  been  successful  thus  far;  Dickie 
had  never  yet  suspected  his  uncle's  motives,  or  his  real 
nature. 

But  now  Dickie  had  flashes  of  insight  that  almost 
blinded  him.  Ann  distrusted  his  uncle,  and  she  was  a 
loyal  servant.  Humphreys  had  disliked  Mr.  Ellery,  and 
he  was  devoted  to  the  family.  Doctor  Warren,  the 
most  honourable  man  in  the  town,  would  not  enter  the 
house  after  Frank's  disappearance,  nor  take  Mr.  Ellery 
by  the  hand.  Was  this  uncle,  so  long  admired,  a — 
Dickie  faltered  before  the  word — a  villain? 

A  surge  of  anger  flushed  Dickie's  brow.  If  he  had 
been  deceived,  then — !  The  great  fists  clenched,  the 
chest  heaved,  and  his  teeth  set  hard.  If  Mr.  Ellery  were 
false,  he  should  pay! 

Then  began  for  Dickie  the  worst  days  of  his  life. 


314  The  Colonials 

The  question  which  reached  back  into  his  past,  and  had 
the  most  important  bearing  on  his  future,  was  not  to 
be  decided  in  an  hour.  There  was  no  evidence;  there 
were  no  visible  facts,  and  to  shield  Roger  he  must  ask 
no  questions.  There  was  only  character  against  char- 
acter, worth  against  worth.  He  could  not  see  his  way 
at  once;  but  the  end  of  the  first  day  left  Dickie  weary 
and  haggard. 

He  became  to  the  outward  eye  a  different  boy.  Boy 
he  was  still,  yet  the  strange  new  glances  of  his  eye  were 
frequently  of  a  man.  The  deep  sadness  of  promised 
disappointment  spoke  in  his  look,  to  be  followed  by 
burning  anger,  repressed  in  turn  by  a  calmness  of  reso- 
lution that  was  like  his  brother's.  Then  the  boy  would 
return;  uncertainty  faltered  on  his  face,  and  appeal 
trembled  pathetically  on  his  lip. 

He  had  his  times  of  revulsion,  when  all  suspicion  fell 
away  from  him.  He  diced  and  drank,  drilled,  and 
danced  with  an  enthusiasm  that  carried  him  beyond 
himself.  But  question  after  question  would  insistently 
come;  and  the  first  sight  of  his  wizened  uncle,  sharp  and 
sneering,  would  bring  his  moodiness  again,  and  cast 
him  down. 

In  his  mind,  as  he  pondered  and  doubted,  Frank  was 
always  offset  against  his  uncle.  Dickie  measured  his 
brother,  scanned  him,  and  tested  him.  He  found  but 
one  flaw,  and  that  was  one  of  his  uncle's  showing,  while 
Frank's  excuse  was  fair.  Frank  was  fair  in  everything. 
Here  was  a  case  in  which  sheer  character,  expressed 
by  no  heroism,  no  dash  or  brilliant  daring,  was  slowly 
forcing  its  acceptance  by  its  simplest  manifestations. 
Frank's  eye  was  deep,  his  voice  was  clear,  his  every 
action  plain.  That  was  all;  but  was  it  not  enough? 
Dickie  struggled  with  the  question. 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle     315 

The  second  and  the  third  day  passed,  the  fourth 
dragged  along.  Frank,  rising  each  morning  to  scan  the 
heights  of  Dorchester  in  vain,  to  wait  a  letter  from  Doc- 
tor Warren,  and  to  watch  the  signs  in  Dickie's  face, 
grew  weary  of  the  life.  Must  he  wait,  after  all,  the 
doctor's  permisison  to  go?  His  brother  still  clung  to 
his  uncle.  Frank  was  planning  to  help  Knox  from  the 
town.  Why  not  go,  too?  If  but  the  word  from  Doctor 
Warren  would  come! 

Yet  Dickie,  for  all  that  Frank  was  losing  hope  of 
him,  was  slowly  changing,  and  from  his  old  routine,  saw 
things  with  newly  questioning  eyes.  It  is  only  a  mind 
essentially  simple  that  would  go  so  deep  into  conse- 
quences as  Dickie  did.  One  skilled  in  euphemisms 
could  gloss  the  fault;  one  quick  in  resources  could  dis- 
card one  fundamental  and  retain  the  rest;  and  one 
afraid  of  the  charge  of  inconsistency  would  dread  to 
change.  But  Dickie's  mind  was  fatally  direct;  the  struc- 
ture of  his  beliefs  rested  upon  a  single  prop — his  uncle — 
and  when  that  failed  the  whole  was  doomed.  Contem- 
plating Mr.  Ellery's  falsity,  imagining  a  proof,  Dickie 
saw  stage  after  stage  of  his  beliefs  equally  vain. 

And  as  Dickie  examined  his  uncle,  so  also  he  scanned 
his  own  familiar  and  accepted  way  of  life.  He  saw  his 
comrades  and  their  deeds,  he  questioned  the  worth  of 
their  opinions  and  their  words.  Boasts  had  lost  their 
effect  on  him,  the  new  proclamation  of  the  governor 
drew  a  sneer  to  his  lips.  The  "  rebels  affected  to  hold 
the  royal  army  besieged"?  Affected  most  effectually, 
then.  Where  was  the  "  elbow-room  "  Burgoyne  had 
promised?  What  of  the  fresh  provision  Gage  had  negli- 
gently lost?  And  the  governor's  promise  to  the  Whigs 
when  they  gave  up  their  arms — what  had  that  been,  and 
was  it  really  broken?  He  flushed  with  indignation 


316  The  Colonials 

when,  at  the  coffee-house  that  last  evening,  he  forced 
the  truth  from  Anthony. 

"  And  that  is  the  way  the  king  will  make  his  subjects 
loyal — by  appointing  governors  who  break  their  prom- 
ises!" he  cried.  "Has  this  been  done  before?  Was 
this  why  Hutchinson  was  so  hated?  And  Bernard? 
Now  I  remember,"  he  added  suddenly,  "  the  Hutchin- 
son letters.  Did  he " 

"  Softly,  softly,"  warned  an  older  associate,  flushing 
a  little. 

"  Was  Hutchinson,"  insisted  Dickie,  "  really  telling 
the  Whigs  one  thing  and  the  king  another?  " 

"Be  silent!"  rebuked  his  elder.  "Who  are  you  to 
question  of  your  betters?  " 

Dickie  crowded  down  his  wrath.  Who  was  he?  he 
muttered  to  himself.  Who  were  the  Whigs,  then? 
What  right  had  any  subject  to  expect  a  pledge  to  be 
kept?  Was  he — good  God! — was  he  to  fight  for  prom- 
ise breakers? 

He  glared  so  angrily  from  his  seat  that  the  others 
looked  anxiously  at  him.  "  What  ails  the  boy?  "  asked 
General  Ruggles  testily  from  his  table.  "  Don't  inter- 
rupt the  game." 

But  Sotheran,  lazily  dealing  cards  to  another  group, 
spoke  so  loud  that  the  room  heard.  "  These  volunteers, 
egad!  prize  themselves  equal  with  us." 

General  Ruggles,  who  was  but  the  leader  of  the 
volunteers,  himself  bit  his  lip  at  this.  Dickie  started  up 
with  such  a  look  that  Anthony  caught  his  arm. 

"  Say  nothing,"  he  begged. 

But  Dickie  shook  him  off  and  strode  to  Sotheran. 
The  sullen  anger  that  had  driven  him  for  three  days  had 
broken  out.  The  sting  of  honour  betrayed,  the  spur  of 
contempt,  made  Dickie  heedless.  He  stopped  at  Soth- 
eran's  side  and  looked  into  his  face. 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle     317 

"So,"  he  demanded,  "no  one  is  to  ask  questions?" 

Sotheran  stared  back  at  him  haughtily.  "  Not  you, 
at  any  rate,"  he  responded. 

"  You  mean  no  provincial?  "  said  Dickie. 

"  What  rights  have  you?  "  sneered  the  other. 

"  And  promises  are  to  be  broken?  "  insisted  Dickie. 

"Too  strong — too  strong!"  protested  older  men  at 
his  back. 

"  Sit  down,  boy,"  answered  Sotheran  contemptuously; 
and  took  up  his  cards. 

"  Captain  Sotheran,"  cried  Dickie,  "  will  you  look  me 
in  the  face?  " 

Harriman  and  Tudor,  starting  up,  would  have  inter- 
fered. But  the  captain's  eyes  and  Dickie's  had  met,  and 
none  might  come  between. 

What  sort  of  a  man  was  this,  thought  Dickie,  that 
met  his  glance  so  boldly?  The  stern,  cold  eye  was  no 
window  of  a  heart;  it  was  a  stone — expressionless  and 
hard.  Courage  and  scorn  were  written  on  its  surface; 
insolence  and  pride  sparkled  there;  but  below — what? 
Where  were  honour  and  manliness,  where  considera- 
tion, and  where  honesty? 

"Are  you  satisfied?"  demanded  Sotheran  at  length. 

Dickie,  trying  to  pierce  with  darting  eyes  below  the 
surface  of  the  other's  character,  had  failed.  None  but 
Frank  had  succeeded  in  that,  and  seen  human  fear.  But 
from  his  bending  position  Dickie  rose. 

"  I  am  satisfied,"  he  said. 

''  Tf  you  are  not — "  threatened  the  captain. 

But  Dickie  had  taken  his  seat  again,  troubled  and 
deeply  humbled.  "  Him,"  he  thought,  "  to  have  com- 
pared with  Frank !  "  The  captain  looked  at  him  an- 
other moment  fixedly;  but  Dickie's  eyes  were  on  the 
floor,  and  Sotheran  turned  awav. 


318  The  Colonials 

"  He  is  but  a  boy,"  reminded  Tudor  anxiously.  "  He 
meant  nothing." 

"  But  let  him  be  careful,"  warned  Sotheran,  and  re- 
commenced his  deal.  He  saw  with  indifference,  but  the 
others  with  relief,  that  Dickie  had  risen  and  was  leaving 
the  room. 


CHAPTER  X 

EVIDENCE 

Dickie  wandered  out  into  the  night.  He  went  to  the 
side  of  Beacon  Hill,  and,  sitting  there  in  the  quiet, 
looked  down  on  the  town  lights  below.  This  was  that 
night  most  momentous  in  the  history  of  Boston,  and  of 
America.  Miles  away,  out  of  Cambridge,  a  detachment 
of  men  was  marching.  It  was  ununiformed  and  rough; 
there  was  slight  military  order;  the  arms  of  the  men 
were  various — in  many  cases  old.  Yet  their  deed  of  the 
morrow  was  to  shake  the  world.  Dickie  sat,  pondering 
his  own  recent  experience,  nor  dreamed  that  the  march- 
ing regiments  were  to  change  his  future. 

He  had  just  begun  truly  to  compare  and  to  weigh — 
Sotheran  against  Frank,  the  governor  against  the  simple 
Whigs  who  had  trusted  him,  and  further  off,  yet  soon 
to  be  considered,  the  king  against  the  people.  Honour 
was  honour — how  much  had  Sotheran?  A  promise  was 
a  promise — how  many  had  the  royal  governors  broken? 
And  right  was  right — where  did  it  lie,  with  the  king 
or  with  the  colonists?  That  from  the  accusation  of  a 
boy  Dickie  could  proceed  to  such  tremendous  questions, 
astonished  and  almost  stupefied  him. 

He  could  not  think;  he  saw  no  way.  Where  should 
he  turn?  Like  a  cooling  hand  on  his  brow  came  the 
memory  of  a  face,  and  he  rose  with  relief.  He  would 
go  to  Alice. 

He  found  her  in  her  little  parlour,  alone  with  Harley. 


320  The  Colonials 

The  modest  major  had  come — for  the  last  time  had 
come — to  see  his  mistress.  A  shadow  was  on  his  brow, 
as  upon  Dickie's;  perhaps  he  saw  the  fate  that  waited 
him.  He  had  become  bold,  had  asked  Alice  to  sing,  and 
in  the  sound  of  her  beloved  voice  the  burden  on  his 
breast  seemed  lighter. 

Into  the  quiet  scene  came  Dickie  with  his  troubles. 
Within  him  manhood  was  wrestling  with  youth.  He 
did  not  see  the  major,  and  walked  directly  to  Alice. 

"  Alice,"  he  asked  without  greeting,  "  which  is  right, 
the  king  or  the  colonists?  " 

Then  he  saw  Harley,  but  did  not  flush.  "  You,  too, 
sir;  answer  if  you  can." 

But  Alice  said,  "  I  cannot  tell  you,  Dickie,"  and  Har- 
ley, with  the  shadow  coming  down  again  upon  him, 
asked: 

"  Have  you,  too,  a  doubt?" 

"  I  too  ? "  exclaimed  Dickie.  "  Do  you  doubt  as 
well?  Can  Englishmen  doubt,  without  my  cause  for  it?  " 

"  There  are  many  Englishmen  who  doubt,"  said  Har- 
ley quietly. 

"  Good  night!  "  cried  Dickie,  and  abruptly  went  away. 
Here  was  new  knowledge  to  draw  him  to  Frank's  side. 
But  his  uncle?  How  was  he  to  learn  the  truth  of  him? 

He  went  slowly  toward  his  home.  Knots  of  soldiers 
passed  him  in  the  ill-lighted  streets;  or  quiet  people, 
wishing  to  escape  insults,  slipped  along  from  shadow  to 
shadow.  A  group  met  him  under  a  lamp;  at  the  sight 
of  him  two  of  them — a  man  and  a  woman — quickened 
their  pace  and  passed.  The  third  stopped. 

"  I  have  been  looking  for  you,  Dickie."  It  was 
Frank's  voice. 

Dickie  looked  up.  He  was  not  ready,  not  quite  ready, 
to  give  himself  to  Frank,  and  resisting  all  the  impulses 
that  drew  him  to  his  brother,  feared  to  speak  with  him. 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle     321 

"  I'm  thinking,"  he  said  hastily.  "  To-morrow, 
Frank." 

"  Good-by,  then,"  said  Frank,  and  took  his  hand. 

"  Good  night,"  answered  Dickie,  and  went  on. 

The  man  and  woman  had  halted  to  wait  for  Frank. 
"  He  did  not  understand,"  said  the  woman  with  sym- 
pathy, as  Frank  joined  them. 

"  No,  Mrs.  Knox,"  he  said.  "  He  did  not  under- 
stand." They  went  onward  together. 

Dickie  went  home.  It  was  late;  the  house  was  dark; 
and  wishing  not  to  rouse  his  uncle,  if  asleep,  he  opened 
and  shut  the  door  quietly.  He  went  slowly  up  the 
stair,  deep  in  thought.  If  he  could  but  learn  the  truth 
from  his  uncle — in  some  way  surprising  it  out  of  him! 
He  saw  a  light  in  Frank's  room,  and  a  moving  shadow. 
Who  could  that  be?  Not  Frank.  Dickie  went  to  the 
open  door. 

There  was  his  surprise! 

Mr.  Ellery  knelt  at  the  fireplace.  A  candle  stood  on 
the  floor;  the  man  was  looking  among  the  ashes  and 
drawing  out  torn  scraps  of  paper.  His  shadow  loomed 
behind,  gigantic  on  the  walls  and  ceiling,  and  in  the 
light  his  sharp  face  was  eager  and  delighted.  He 
stopped  to  piece  his  find  together  hastily,  grinned,  and 
looked  for  more. 

"And  Dickie,  standing  at  the  threshold,  saw  him  and 
saw  more.  That  was  his  uncle,  so  foully  searching 
there.  There  died  an  ideal,  blackened  and  disgraced; 
and  there  fell  Dickie's  beliefs.  Truth  became  lies, 
honour  became  dishonour,  loyalty  turned  to  mere  self- 
interest.  Pierced  to  his  heart,  Dickie  groaned  aloud. 

Mr.  Ellery  screamed,  and  sprang  up.  "  Who  is 
that?" 

"  Tis  Dickie,"  replied  the  young  man  huskily. 


322  The  Colonials 

"  Oh,"  said  his  uncle,  trying  to  smile.  "  You  gave 
me  such  a  start.  You  see,  I " 

But  he  was  trembling  from  head  to  foot.  "  No 
words!"  interrupted  Dickie.  He  stepped  forward. 

"  I  came — "  persisted  Mr.  Ellery. 

Dickie  raised  the  candle  and  put  it  on  the  mantel. 
"No  words!"  he  repeated  sternly.  His  uncle,  like 
Sotheran  and  Frank,  should  meet  the  final  test.  He 
took  Mr.  Ellery  by  the  arm  and  drew  him  to  the  light. 

"  What  do  you  want?  "  cried  the  uncle. 

"  Look  me  in  the  eye,"  commanded  his  nephew. 

How  miserably  his  uncle  failed!  That  sight  was  im- 
pressed on  Dickie  forever — a  haggard  face,  a  trembling 
lip,  a  shifting,  fearful,  fishy  eye.  "  Look  at  me!  "  com- 
manded Dickie  again;  but  the  glance  still  fell  before  his. 

"Oh,  uncle!"  Dickie  cried,  and  released  him.  His 
voice,  despondent  with  accusation  and  reproach,  put 
Mr.  Ellery  beyond  the  hope  of  excuse.  Still  shaking, 
he  stood  silent,  and  his  nephew  took  from  his  hand  the 
bits  of  paper.  Dickie  lighted  them  at  the  candle  and 
burnt  them  on  the  hearth.  Then,  with  his  face  working 
from  a  hundred  new  emotions,  he  turned  away. 

"  I  must  find  Frank  at  once!  "  he  cried,  and  ran  from 
the  room  and  from  the  house. 

Where  was  Frank?  No  one  could  tell  him.  He  met 
Whigs  on  the  street;  not  one  had  seen  his  brother. 
He  went  to  Nick's;  the  barber  had  not  spoken  with  Mr. 
Frank  for  some  hours — not  since,  in  fact,  he  had  de- 
livered him  a  note.  Dickie  chanced  on  Pete,  but  the 
ropemaker  knew  nothing  of  Mr.  Frank.  Then,  as  a 
last  hope,  Dickie  went  to  Alice. 

Harley  was  gone.  Alice  had  in  truth  not  seen  Frank, 
but  Ann  had  brought  her,  only  a  few  minutes  before, 
a  note.  She  showed  it  to  Dickie,  with  tears  in  her  eyes. 
It  was  in  Frank's  hand. 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle     323 

"  Good-by,"  was  all  it  said. 

"  He  is  leaving  the  town!  "  cried  Dickie  aghast.  But 
there  might  yet  be  chance  to  find  him.  He  could  ask 
Ann;  and  hurried  home. 

"  I'll  tell  you  in  the  morning,"  was  all  Ann  would  say. 
Against  her  iron  obstinacy  Dickie  knew  it  was  vain 
to  strive. 

With  his  hands  holding  his  head,  he  threw  himself 
into  the  great  chair.  Had  Frank  been  there,  Dickie 
would  have  followed  him  blindly.  But  left  alone,  with 
no  one  to  whom  to  turn,  habit  still  strong  on  him,  he 
felt  himself  utterly  confused. 

Meanwhile,  on  the  dark  waters  of  the  harbour,  a  boat 
floated  in  silence.  Frank  Ellery  was  seated  in  it.  His 
long  waiting,  his  useless  watching,  were  finished.  The 
sudden  hope  of  Dickie,  which  for  a  while  appeared  and 
buoyed  him,  had  died.  For  his  inheritance  he  had 
ceased  to  care.  He  had  lost  Alice.  And  Gage's  prep- 
arations for  the  taking  of  Dorchester— plain  to  the 
eye  that  knew  the  general's  plan — it  was  impossible 
longer  to  watch  in  idleness.  Almost  this  would  have 
caused  his  departure:  the  surety  that  at  last  his  coun- 
trymen must  act,  and  seize  the  Heights  in  advance  of 
the  British. 

But  while  he  hesitated  before  the  decision,  Nick  put 
into  his  hands  a  note  from  Doctor  Warren. 

"  You  have  done  what  I  wished,"  it  said.  "  Come, 
but  to  be  in  time,  be  quick." 

Nothing  could  keep  him  after  that. 

He  had  landed  Knox  and  his  wife  at  Winnissimet 
Ferry,  and  rowed  out  again  upon  the  water.  He  paused 
to  get  his  bearings,  intending  to  go  to  Dorchester. 
Perhaps  that  very  night  the  Americans  would  be  there. 
He  heard  a  distant  cry,  "  All's  well,"  from  a  sentinel 
of  the  fleet,  and  from  ship  to  ship  the  signal  was  re- 


324  The  Colonials 

peated.  Waiting  and  gazing,  before  he  gripped  his 
oars  again  the  tide  and  breeze  had  drifted  him  close  to 
the  Charlestown  shore.  Then  from  the  hill  above  a  little 
sound  came  down  to  him,  and  his  heart  leaped  violently. 

It  was  but  a  single  sound,  and  faint  against  the 
breeze,  yet  he  knew  it  for  the  blow  of  a  pick  upon  a 
stone,  softened  by  intervening  earth. 

"  Instead  of  Dorchester,"  he  cried  to  himself,  "  they 
have  chosen  Bunker's  Hill!  " 

The  sound  came  again,  and  set  him  right.  "  Breed's 
Hill,  not  Bunker's." 

He  urged  the  boat  ashore. 


CHAPTER   XI 

THE     REBELS 

It  was  coming!  Francis  Ellery,  leaning  on  the  ram- 
part of  the  little  fort,  saw  the  last  of  the  British  troops 
landing  on  the  shore  below. 

Beyond  lay  a  wonderful  panorama.  That  day,  so  per- 
fect, was  warm  ;  high  fleecy  clouds  lay  along  the  horizon, 
and  above  was  the  blue.  Below,  the  bay  and  river 
sparkled  in  the  little  breeze,  the  tall  grass  waved  upon 
the  slope,  and  the  broad  green  sweep  of  the  Charles 
River  shore  was  not  yet  scorched  by  summer.  Ships 
lay  upon  the  water,  and  across  the  river  channel  was 
many-steepled  Boston,  as  charming,  with  its  gardens 
and  its  tree-tops  peeping  forth,  as  any  peaceful  town 
upon  the  earth. 

But  a  sound  was  in  the  air,  an  intermittent  roar, 
seeming  to  die  at  times,  but  rising  abruptly  into 
thunder.  And  from  that  lovely  Boston,  from  the  noble 
ships  below,  rose  clouds  of  white  and  drifted  on  the 
breeze.  From  Copp's  Hill,  from  the  "  Somerset,"  the 
"  Falcon,"  the  "  Lively,"  the  "  Glasgow,"  and  from  float- 
ing batteries,  cannon  were  playing  upon  Breed's  Hill. 

Below  Frank  on  the  hillside  would  rise  suddenly 
clods  and  dirt,  thrown  violently  upward  by  a  ball. 
Other  balls  passed  overhead  with  soft  caressing  whir, 
to  fall  far  beyond.  And  sometimes  one  would  strike 
in  the  dry  dirt  of  the  embankment,  sending  up  a  cloud 
of  dust  and  a  spurt  of  stones.  But  Frank  was  used  to 


326  The  Colonials 

this,  it  had  gone  on  for  hours  now;  he  saw  that  the 
colonel  was  willing  that  he  should  expose  himself,  and 
standing  in  the  shade  of  the  apple-tree  that  had  been 
built  into  the  fort,  he  studied  the  situation. 

The  chance  had  been  small  that  the  little  redoubt, 
built  upon  the  most  advanced  hill  of  Charlestown  penin- 
sula, could  stand  a  single  attack.  Those  who  had  toiled 
through  the  night  to  make  it,  unsupported  and  unre- 
freshed,  were  to  be  its  defenders.  Frank  looked  upon 
them :  Prescott  the  commander ;  Robinson  his  aid — he 
who  had  marched  at  the  head  of  the  militia  at  Concord — 
the  men,  toilworn,  thirsty,  and  hungry:  all  these  had 
spirit  for  the  fight.  But  posted  in  the  middle  of  the 
broad  peninsula,  the  narrow  neck  behind  swept  by  a 
cannon  fire  that  none  but  the  bravest  dared  to  pass,  with 
Charlestown  a  poor  defence  on  the  one  side,  and  with 
the  auxiliary  breastwork  reaching  but  a  few  rods  toward 
the  water  on  the  other,  the  redoubt  could  be  easily  sur- 
rounded. 

Howe,  when  he  landed,  could  have  taken  the  fort  at 
a  blow.  He  had  chosen  to  send  for  reinforcements. 
While  below  on  the  beach  the  troops  lay  at  ease,  and  ate 
their  lunch  and  drank  their  grog  in  the  sight  of  their 
hungry  and  thirsty  challengers  above,  Colonel  Prescott 
considered  his  weakness  and  determined  to  remedy  it. 
He  ordered  Knowlton  of  Connecticut  with  his  men, 
some  two  hundred  in  all,  to  "  go  and  oppose  "  the  regu- 
lars on  their  advance,  and  on  that  duty  the  tiny  force 
cheerfully  marched  out  into  the  field. 

Endeavouring  to  fill  the  gap  between  the  breastwork 
and  the  Mystic,  they  took  their  stand  a  furlong  to  the 
rear,  where  a  wall,  of  stone  below  and  rails  above,  gave 
a  slight  cover.  If  they  could  hold  it,  the  rear  of  the 
redoubt  was  safe,  and  to  give  their  defence  the  appear- 
ance of  strength  they  took  up  bodily  another  fence,  and 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle     327 

laying  it  against  their  own,  thrust  in  between  the  rails 
hay  that  lay  fresh  mown,  and  twisted  grass  in  and  out. 
Their  line  was  too  short;  it  extended  neither  to  the 
breastwork  on  the  one  hand  nor  the  water  on  the  other. 
Stone  to  the  knees,  then  rails  and  hay,  was  the  only 
protection  against  bullets ;  yet  the  farmers  of  Connecti- 
cut waited  calmly,  prepared  to  defend  that  line  against 
veteran  regiments. 

Frank,  looking  back  upon  this  frail  defence,  smiled 
proudly  and  then  sighed.  The  British  boats  were  re- 
turning now,  the  tantalising  lunch  below  was  ended, 
yet  still  in  the  redoubt  were  the  blazing  sun,  and  thirst, 
and  hunger.  Still  across  the  slopes  of  Bunker's  Hill, 
whose  summit  was  a  target  for  the  British  cannon, 
straggled  forward  a  few  volunteers.  One  man  on  a 
foaming  horse  rode  back  and  forth  among  them,  pointed 
to  the  hill-top  and  the  piled  intrenching  tools,  and 
seemed  to  implore  them  to  go  there  with  him.  Yet 
balls  were  thickly  falling  there ;  the  men  had  come  to 
fight,  not  to  dig;  and  Israel  Putnam,  knowing  that  a 
fort  upon  Bunker's  would  make  the  redoubt  on  Breed's 
secure,  yielding  with  curses — afterward  repentantly 
acknowledged  in  church — sent  all  comers  to  the  rail- 
fence,  and  still  rode  back  and  forward  furiously,  urging 
new  men  across  the  isthmus,  next  begging  them  to 
stay  with  him  and  dig,  then  giving  them  up  as  before. 

At  last  the  British  reinforcements  were  landed  and 
the  troops  in  line.  The  hour  was  coming;  now  in  the 
redoubt  the  officers  were  beginning  to  repeat  the  order : 
"  Hold  your  fire !  "  Down  by  the  beach  the  muskets 
were  lengthened  by  gleaming  bayonets,  and  above  in 
the  fort  the  yeoman  looked  to  their  flints.  The  troops 
were  manceuvering  into  position ;  the  field-pieces  were 
dragged  forward,  and  all  was  ready  for  the  battle. 


328  The  Colonials 

Frank  cast  one  last  troubled  look  at  the  thin,  short  line 
of  men  who  were  to  defend  their  rear. 

His  heart  leaped  and  his  eyes  flashed.  Upon  the  side 
of  Bunker's  Hill,  in  perfect  order  and  with  steady  step, 
was  marching  toward  the  fence  a  solid  body  of  men. 
He  did  not  need  to  be  told  their  value ;  that  they  were 
there  was  enough,  that  they  marched  so  firmly  was 
enough,  and  yet  the  heart  of  the  frontiersman  responded 
as  he  heard  Prescott's  words : 

"  There  is  Stark  with  the  New  Hampshire  men !  " 

Stark  and  his  men!  Hunters  and  Indian  fighters! 
The  rear  was  secure.  He  gave  one  final  look  of  joy. 

And  then  his  heart,  exultant,  sank.  What  figure  was 
that,  hastening  to  the  redoubt,  sped  on  by  Putnam's 
pointing  sword  ?  The  idol  of  his  boyhood,  the  guide  of 
his  youth,  the  friend  of  his  manhood:  Warren  it  was, 
coming  to  that  post  of  danger — Warren,  not  needed 
there,  too  precious  for  such  risk! 

Yet  they  cheered  him  as  he  entered.  Frank  saw 
Prescott  hasten  to  clasp  his  hand,  he  saw  the  offered 
sword  and  its  refusal.  Warren  seized  a  gun.  '*'  Where 
shall  I  stand?"  he  seemed  to  ask,  and  then  in  a  mo- 
ment he  was  at  Frank's  side.  He  grasped  the  young 
man's  hand,  at  the  same  time  that  Prescott,  anxious  at 
such  a  charge,  spoke  in  Frank's  ear. 

"  Take  care  of  him,"  he  said,  and  went  to  encourage 
his  men. 

Thus  the  cool  soldier,  recognising  the  quiet  courage 
of  the  young  man,  set  him  in  restraint  upon  the  ardour  of 
Warren,  as  a  guard  against  too  rash  exposure.  Frank, 
with  such  a  precious  life  in  charge,  in  the  ensuing  hour 
fought  with  double  caution. 


CHAPTER  XII 

CHARLESTOWN     BATTLE 

And  now,  how  to  describe  that  hour?  How  to  show, 
in  words,  the  beauty  of  that  summer  scene,  rent  by 
man's  most  fearful  engines?  How  to  contrast  the 
splendour  of  the  British  array  with  the  bearing  of  the 
men  of  the  land?  And  how  to  indicate  the  thousand 
deeds  of  courage  when  Englishmen  met  Englishmen? 

Armed  with  the  bayonet,  covered  by  their  cannon, 
the  British  marched  against  two  points — the  redoubt 
and  the  rail-fence.  Pigott  led  the  detachment  up  the 
hill,  Howe  that  which  went  along  the  water.  In  bright 
attire  and  perfect  order,  yet  under  that  hot  sun  carry- 
ing the  weight  of  six  score  pounds — in  gun  and  car- 
tridges, blankets,  haversack,  and  three  days'  rations — 
the  British  faced  the  long  and  slippery  grass,  the  fields 
cut  up  with  fences,  and  the  fortified  foe.  And  never 
before  drawn  up  for  such  a  fight,  ploughman  and  woods- 
man waited.  The  fire  from  the  shipping  slacked,  and 
though  the  "  Glasgow  "  continued  to  sweep  the  Neck, 
and  the  field-pieces  began  to  bellow,  in  intervals  of  quiet 
the  waiting  Americans  could  hear  the  tramp  of  the 
soldiery  and  the  tap  of  scattered  drums. 

Then  the  two  solid  columns  deployed.  As  on  parade 
they  spread  out,  presented  a  broad  front,  and  came 
marching  on  in  pride — fatal  mistake  which  gave  to 
marksmen  such  a  target.  Each  American  picked  his 
man  and  on  him  fixed  his  eye;  some,  too  eager,  fired  as 


330  The  Colonials 

at  distant  deer ;  and  in  the  British  ranks  the  first  men 
toppled  and  fell.  But  Robinson,  leaping  to  the  parapet 
of  the  redoubt,  kicked  up  the  guns ;  and  at  the  rail- 
fence,  roaring  with  fury,  Putnam  threatened  to  cut  down 
the  next  that  disobeyed. 

And  maxims,  now  historic,  leaped  into  life  and  passed 
from  lip  to  lip.  "  Aim  at  the  handsome  coats !  Fire  at 
the  crossing  of  the  belts !  Wait  till  you  see  the  whites 
of  their  eyes !  "  For  the  officers  were  the  finest  dressed  ; 
upon  the  scarlet  breasts  two  white  bands  crossed ;  and 
the  distinct  sight  of  their  opponents'  eyes  meant  short 
and  deadly  distance.  And  now,  within  the  American 
lines,  was  silence  and  restraint. 

But  at  last  the  regulars  began  to  fire.  By  companies, 
with  loud  and  sullen  discharge,  they  answered  the  first 
scattering  shot  of  their  enemies,  and  firing,  advanced. 
The  breeze  drifted  the  smoke  away,  steadily  they  came 
on,  throwing  down  a  fence,  stepping  over  a  wall,  paus- 
ing to  load,  and  then  presenting  for  another  volley. 
But  of  the  line  of  waiting  heads  that  crowded  the  re- 
doubt scarcely  one  was  hit,  and  Frank,  turning  to 
Warren  at  his  side,  pointed  to  the  apple-tree  above 
them.  Its  twigs  were  falling. 

"  They  fire  too  high,"  he  said. 

"  Wait  for  the  word !  "  came  the  strong  voice  of  Pres- 
cott.  Bending,  he  looked  with  knitted  brows  at  the 
advancing  line,  swung  his  sword,  walked,  and  paused 
again  to  look.  And  at  the  fence  Putnam,  with  redden- 
ing face,  watched  the  approach  of  enemies  once  friends, 
and  counted  the  rods  that  intervened.  But  still  the 
troops  came  on,  while  from  the  ships  below,  and  the 
town  across  the  water,  thousands  of  spectators  watched 
the  first  act  of  the  terrific  drama. 

For  another  minute  lasted  the  impressive  sight.  The 
sloping  fields  were  green  and  pure,  and  little  birds, 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle     331 

springing  tip  amid  the  grain,  flew  away.  The  sun  still 
shone,  the  sky  still  smiled,  the  water  still  reflected  the 
beauty  of  a  world  where  death  had  scarcely  come.  The 
brilliance  of  the  marching  troops  was  a  sight  for  ladies' 
eyes — yet  the  low  grim  earthworks  and  the  fence  of 
rails,  the  dusty  countrymen  with  their  dull-barrelled 
guns,  made  a  threat  which  none  might  disregard.  Wait- 
ing they  stood,  while  steadily  lessened  the  distance  be- 
tween them  and  their  foe,  till  the  very  numbers  on  regi- 
mental badges  were  clear,  and  the  whites  of  eyes  were 
visible. 

And  then  the  outburst  came.  Sighting  along  their 
pointing  barrels,  each  muzzle  moving  slightly,  follow- 
ing its  mark,  the  Americans  had  been  patient.  Their 
eagle  commander  at  the  redoubt  had  measured  every 
yard ;  down  at  the  fence  the  troops  had  reached  the 
stake  which  Stark  had  planted  as  a  mark ;  the  time  had 
come,  the  word  was  given.  "  Fire !  "  And  the  volley 
sped. 

And  no  word  can  describe,  or  pen  indite,  the  swift 
succeeding  minutes.  Torn,  shattered  by  hurtling  bul- 
lets, while  still  as  moments  passed  the  volley  was  re- 
newed, and  in  the  smoke  each  shadowy  form  was 
marked  and  doomed,  how  could  those  troops,  though 
veterans  of  Minden,  bear  for  a  single  minute  that  fright- 
ful carnage?  Yet  they  did  bear  it;  and  other  ranks 
came  forward  still.  At  the  hill  many  struggled  onward, 
to  fall  upon  the  rampart's  very  slope,  and  without  offi- 
cers stood  fast.  And  at  the  fence,  where  New  Hamp- 
shire and  Connecticut  proved  themselves  no  less  than 
Massachusetts,  still  while  they  might  maintained  them- 
selves the  grenadiers.  Yet  it  was  vain ;  no  human  force 
could  take  those  slender  walls.  The  word  was  given  to 
retreat,  and  the  baffled  troops  withdrew. 

There,  on  the  slope  by  the  redoubt,  at  dawn  had 


332  The  Colonials 

waved  the  bending  grass.  Now  it  was  beaten  as  by  hail. 
Pure  crimson  spots,  like  poppies  amid  grain,  dotted 
the  grass,  but  that  was  blood,  and  a  strange  harvest 
lay  there  thickly.  A  windrow  of  bodies  marked  the  line 
where  the  first  fire  met  the  troops,  and  scattered  farther 
on  lay  other  forms.  Bright  in  their  scarlet,  gay  with 
golden  lace,  officers  lay  with  white  faces ;  while  round 
them  were  their  men,  in  vain  having  emulated  their 
leaders.  Writhing  some,  but  some  already  still,  the  best 
of  Pigott's  force  lay  upon  the  slope.  And  by  the  shore, 
where  yesterday  had  passed  reapers,  where  the  whetting 
of  scythes  had  made  music,  to-day  another  reaper  had 
passed,  the  sweep  of  whose  blade  drew  groans. 

Almost  unscathed  the  defenders  stood,  but  shocking 
was  the  slaughter  of  the  troops.  The  dead  were  close 
together  on  the  hill,  but  by  the  shore  they  lay  "  thick  as 
sheep  in  a  fold."  Where  the  light  infantry  had  skirted 
the  beach,  and  where  at  their  side  had  marched  the 
grenadiers — the  flower  of  the  army — the  scene  of  death 
was  frightful.  "  Served  up  "  one  by  one  against  the 
fire  of  men  whose  aim  was  sure  and  whose  re-loading 
rapid,  whole  ranks  had  gone  down  together,  and  those 
who  retired  bore  many  wounds. 

And  yet  those  troops  reformed.  Blind  courage,  head- 
strong anger,  demanded  vengeance,  and  Howe  and 
Pigott  prepared  a  new  assault.  In  the  breathing  space 
wounds  were  bound,  and  there  began  again  the  cannon- 
ade from  the  ships  and  Boston.  Putnam,  again  on 
horseback  hurrying  to  the  rear,  found  still  the  hesitant 
militia  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  isthmus.  Though  he 
rode  up  and  down  amid  the  balls,  daring  the  men  to 
cross,  it  was  in  vain.  The  dust  spurted  beneath  his 
horse's  belly;  few  cared  to  run  the  risk,  and  though 
some  came,  the  great  majority  hung  back.  Scamman's 
regiment  remained  a  mile  away,  and  the  colonel  sent  a 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle     333 

messenger  to  know  if  he  were  wanted.  Gerrish's  cannon 
stayed  at  Cobble  Hill,  and  stuttered  feebly  at  the  ships. 
That  invaluable  force  was  wasted,  and  Putnam,  hearing 
behind  him  the  second  ominous  ceasing  of  the  cannon- 
ade, once  more  hastened  to  the  fence. 

And  now  one  other  sight  was  added  to  the  panorama. 
Boston  breathless  watching  was  not  enough ;  the  har- 
bour and  the  river,  the  ships  and  the  cloudless  sky,  and 
the  bloody  focus  of  all  eyes,  were  not  sufficient  for  that 
day.  Fired  by  red  hot  shot,  the  conflagration  increased 
by  sailors  from  the  ships,  Charlestown.  was  in  a  blaze. 
Flames  were  leaping  from  many  roofs ;  the  church  was 
afire ;  and  from  house  to  house  the  breeze  was  spreading 
havoc.  While  once  more  the  troops  began  their  jour- 
ney, the  spectacle  of  a  burning  town,  with  clouds  of 
smoke  and  sheets  of  flame,  gave  grandeur  to  the  scene. 

And  this  time  the  Americans,  their  lesson  learned, 
waited.  No  shot  sped  now  from  them.  But  the  British, 
not  yet  perceiving  that  an  extended  front,  comparatively 
safe  against  a  fire  such  as  their  own,  did  but  invite  de- 
struction at  the  hands  of  marksmen,  came  on  as  before. 
With  measured  pace,  volleying  at  intervals,  the  men 
stepping  over  bodies  as  over  logs,  again  the  two  divi- 
sions marched  against  the  redoubt  and  the  fence,  while 
at  the  ships  and  on  the  farther  shore  spectators  watched 
and  dreaded  the  second  welcome.  Xearer  than  before 
the  columns  went,  but  no  other  volley  than  theirs  was 
fired,  and  no  sound  came  except,  against  the  wind,  the 
crackle  of  the  fire  in  Charlestown.  The  flame  swept  up 
the  spire,  and  waved  from  its  top  destruction's  smoky 
flag,  until  as  the  soldiers  gripped  their  guns  for  the 
charge  the  word  again  was  given  to  the  farmers.  Then 
leaped  the  short  flames  from  the  guns ;  the  crash  was 
like  the  noise  of  falling  walls,  and  one  great  cloud  en- 
veloped fort  and  fence. 


334  The  Colonials 

Crumbling,  the  battalions  once  more  withstood  the 
fire.  Again,  in  the  spurting  smoke,  they  thrust  on,  and 
were  seen  and  shot.  Vain  it  was  to  fall  on  the  face  of 
the  redoubt;  vain  to  clutch  the  stones  that  based  the 
fence.  With  futile  cries  the  officers  pressed  forward, 
with  heroism  superb  but  unavailing  Howe  himself  stood 
alone  in  front  of  his  men  and  called  them  on.  They  had 
melted  away ;  they  were  swept  back  blinded,  and  in  the 
first  panic  of  that  day  some  few  soldiers  sought  their 
boats. 

All  praise,  therefore,  that  they  would  form  again. 
No  discredit  that  officers  protested,  for  their  men's  sake, 
against  a  third  attack.  The  stubborn  Howe  gave  new 
orders,  his  subordinates  hastened  to  fulfil  them,  and 
the  shattered  regiments  once  more  stepped  into  rank. 
A  few  marines  came  fresh  to  the  fight,  Clinton  with 
burning  zeal  leaped  into  a  boat  and  crossed :  these  were 
the  British  reinforcements,  not  to  be  despised.  Yet 
though  Putnam  a  second  time  beat  up  for  help  and 
found  it  not,  they  were  to  all  effects  the  same  adver- 
saries that  for  a  third  time  confronted  each  other — with 
one  most  fatal  difference. 

The  Americans  in  the  redoubt  were  short  of  powder. 
As  they  beheld  their  foe  once  more  advancing,  they 
turned  to  their  commander  and  asked  for  what  he  did  not 
have.  A  few  artillery  cartridges  were  opened  and  their 
contents  given  out,  and  the  men  loaded  for  the  last  time. 
Prescott  saw  the  finish  of  the  day  at  hand.  Howe  had 
learned  his  lesson.  Not  now  in  line,  but  in  close  column 
the  regulars  were  coming  on.  Blankets  and  haversacks 
had  been  laid  aside,  so  that  lightened  of  their  burden 
the  men  might  move  more  quickly.  The  larger  body 
of  the  troops  was  sent  at  the  redoubt,  and  the  British 
artillerists,  being  told  they  must,  were  dragging  their 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle     335 

pieces  to  a  point  whence  they  could  sweep  the  breast- 
work. Truly  the  end  was  near. 

So  much  in  vain !  A  night  of  toil,  the  moral  conquest 
over  inexperience  that  had  twice  repulsed  the  regulars, 
the  confidence  gained  that  still  would  win  the  victory : 
all  were  lost  for  the  lack  of  powder.  Away  upon  the 
mainland  still  dallied  Scammans  and  Gerrish ;  and  Ward 
at  Cambridge,  implored  a  score  of  times,  at  last  had 
despatched  fresh  regiments — too  late.  The  commander 
looked  long  for  reinforcements,  but  there  were  none  in 
sight.  He  turned  to  the  British,  and  saw  that  in  silence 
now,  without  a  shot,  they  were  making  their  advance. 
Off  to  the  left  the  British  cannon  opened,  and  the  de- 
fenders of  the  breastwork,  their  position  hopeless,  came 
crowding  into  the  redoubt.  Another  look  at  the  ap- 
proaching bayonets — there  were  scarce  a  dozen  for 
defence — and  Prescott  gave  the  reluctant  word : 

"  Fall  back,  and  use  your  last  powder  as  they  reach 
the  parapet." 

So,  forced  not  by  their  enemies,  the  Americans  de- 
serted the  rampart  which  they  had  held  all  day,  and  with 
their  backs  against  the  farther  wall  waited  the  final 
struggle.  Yet  none  can  blame  them  for  the  day  so  nobly 
lost ;  or  grudge,  indeed,  the  victors  a  field  so  dearly  won. 

The  front  rank  of  the  regulars  mounted  the  wall,  to 
be  swept  away  by  a  fire  deadly  as  ever — worse,  indeed, 
like  the  death  sting  of  the  rattlesnake.  There  fell  the 
noblest  of  the  British:  Pitcairn,  whose  command  at 
Lexington  had  begun  the  war;  and  Abercrombie,  friend 
of  Putnam.  Then,  as  the  ramparts  bristled  with  fresh 
bayonets,  a  few  last  muskets  spoke,  and  stones  were 
thrown — the  final  missiles.  Like  the  surge  of  a  wave  the 
soldiers  topped  the  parapet  and  flowed  into  the  redoubt, 
to  take  their  vengeance. 

There   took   place,   for   a   few  short   moments,   the 


336  The  Colonials 

grapple  of  the  day.  Some  were  loath  to  flee,  and  stood 
to  fight;  and  some,  penned  in,  must  strike.  As  across 
the  little  square  the  regulars  charged,  a  few  champions 
stood  out  to  meet  them,  giving  their  lives  to  save  those 
of  their  friends.  For  an  instant  the  advancing  line  was 
checked  before  the  steel  thrust  home,  and  in  that  minute 
the  remainder  of  the  defenders  began  their  retreat. 

And  that  retreat  should  be  celebrated,  no  less  than 
that  defence.  Leaving  the  redoubt  at  Prescott's  word, 
but  ever  angrily  turning  for  a  blow;  unarmed  with  bayo- 
nets, yet  finding  that  a  musket-butt  is  harder  than  a 
skull:  the  farmers,  though  they  fell  thickly,  still  dealt 
death.  The  dust  of  the  dry  earth  rose  up  to  shield  them  ; 
the  soldiers  who  rushed  around  the  redoubt  to  hem 
them  in  were  a  protection,  since  the  British  dared  not 
fire.  Mingled  for  one  furious  minute,  stabbing  and  strik- 
ing indiscriminately,  the  Americans  burst  their  way  to 
the  open  field,  and  brandishing  their  broken  guns  defied 
pursuit. 

And  then  most  nobly  showed  the  rear-guard  at  the 
fence.  A  third  time  shattering  the  attacking  force,  they 
saw  above  them  on  the  hill  the  British  triumph.  Yet 
still  they  stood,  and  with  their  last  ammunition  held 
back  the  companies  that  would  have  pushed  in  to  flank 
the  retreating  men  of  Massachusetts.  Then  as  the  de- 
fenders of  the  redoubt  drew  away  from  their  pursuers, 
slowly  the  men  at  the  rail-fence  gave  ground.  They 
retreated  with  their  face  to  the  foe,  and  the  soldiers 
paused  before  that  formidable  challenge.  Like  veterans 
they  surlily  retired,  and  by  their  aspect  turned  the  flight 
to  a  most  orderly  retreat. 

There  Pomeroy,  threatening  with  his  useless  musket 
— that  gun  which  had,  that  day,  served  the  old  man  of 
seventy  better  than  the  one  which  in  his  youth  always 
gave  him  two  deer  to  three  shots — walked  backward 


Concord  Fight  and  Charlestown  Battle     337 

unwillingly.  Stark  withdrew  proudly,  and  McClary  with 
his  giant  voice  dared  the  British  to  pursue.  Knowlton 
left  the  field  which  he  had  been  the  first  to  enter,  and 
thus  Connecticut  and  New  Hampshire,  side  by  side, 
bore  away  their  laurels  from  the  foot  of  Bunker's  Hill. 

And  Putnam,  raging,  implored  his  men  for  one  more 
stand.  Still  clinging  to  the  hope  that  would  save  the 
day,  he  pointed  to  the  top  of  Bunker's  Hill  and  de- 
manded a  final  rally.  Yet  there  was  no  true  hope  when 
powder  horns  were  almost  empty,  and  bullets  spent. 
After  them  all  he  went  at  the  end,  the  last  man  on  the 
ground. 

The  cannon  from  the  shipping  was  thundering  now, 
and  sending  death  amid  the  scattering  Americans.  The 
slopes  of  Bunker's  Hill  grew  red  at  last,  the  causeway 
at  the  Xeck  was  more  thickly  strewn  with  bodies.  The 
soldiers,  following  as  well  as  they  might  for  the  fatigue, 
reaped  the  sparse  harvest  of  their  victory.  A  few  more 
of  the  militia  fell  and  died,  many  carried  away  wounds, 
but  in  half  an  hour  after  the  storming  of  the  redoubt 
the  last  of  the  Americans  had  left  the  peninsula,  and 
sought  shelter  on  the  mainland  with  the  regiments 
which  still  seemed  to  threaten  the  British. 

And  the  sun  began  to  decline  toward  that  evening 
when  both  sides  were  to  count  their  loss  with  anxiety. 
The  fire  of  the  shipping  ceased ;  doctor  and  surgeon 
commenced  to  perform  their  duties  on  the  bloody  field, 
reinforcements  were  demanded  from  Boston,  and  many- 
times-decimated  companies  were  sent  back  to  rest.  The 
smoke  had  cleared  away,  save  where  from  smouldering 
Charlestown  it  rose  among  the  ashes ;  and  above  still 
were  fleecy  clouds  and  smiling  skies.  The  distant  hills 
were  just  as  beautiful,  the  town  across  the  river  chan- 
nel just  as  lovely,  as  at  the  innocent  dawn. 

But  death  had  not  ceased  his  work,  for  evervwhere 


338  The  Colonials 

upon  the  sod  the  wounded  were  dying.  More  distant 
still,  in  hearts  untouched  by  bullet  or  by  steel,  was  bitter 
anguish.  And  the  real  fruits  of  that  day  were  yet  to  be 
gathered,  as  they  hung  to  overshadow  the  coming  years 
of  war,  to  oppress  with  their  terrible  weight  the  victors 
of  the  battle,  and  to  hearten  with  their  stern  results  the 
vanquished.  For  Britain  might  study  to  her  cost,  and 
America  with  pride,  what  countrymen  could  do,  and 
through  the  gloom  of  that  defeat  gleamed  ultimate 
success. 

Yet  to  thousands  of  patriot  hearts  that  was  defeat, 
most  real,  most  terrible ;  and  failure  of  their  cause 
seemed  for  the  moment  sure.  Not  for  himself  did  Frank 
Ellery  mourn,  no,  not  for  himself,  though,  with  bound 
arms  and  bloody  forehead,  he  was  a  prisoner.  He  stood 
with  despair  beside  the  body  of  Warren,  the  friend 
whom  he  had  tried  in  vain  to  save. 


Looking"  toward 
Roxbury  from  .Beacon  Hill 

from  an  old -time  color  sketch 


Book  Fi 


PLOT  O  COUNTERPLOT 


Chapter  One 


Brothers 


X  a  strange  turmoil  was  Boston  on 
that  shinny  morning.  Waked  from 
their  beds  at  dawn  by  the  sound  of 
cannon,  man,  woman,  and  child ; 
Whig,  Tory,  or  redcoat;  all  started 
up  from  their  beds,  staring,  listen- 
ing, and  questioning:  "What  is 
that?  "  The  firing  ceased;  perhaps  it  was  but  a  salute. 
Then  it  began  again,  not  for  hours  to  slacken,  and  soon 
the  whole  town  was  on  the  streets. 

As  the  day  of  alarm  wore  slowly  to  its  climax,  every 
vantage  point  became  crowded  with  spectators.  Only 
troops  under  arms,  with  people  engaged  in  necessary 
duties,  remained  in  the  streets ;  while  the  shore  and  the 
wharves,  the  housetops  and  the  hillsides,  even  the 
steeples  were  packed  with  observers.  Hearts  beat  fast 
as  the  troops  crossed  the  water,  and  the  long  waiting 
for  reinforcements  bore  hard  on  nerves  while  slowly,  a 
mile  away  in  Charlestown,  the  ranks  of  the  rebels  were 
seen  to  be  filling  up,  and  the  deadly  rail-fence  was 


342  The  Colonials 

arrayed.  And  then,  as  the  troops  stood  in  line  for  the 
attack,  the  prophecies  of  Tories  were  loud  and  confident, 
but  pale  Whigs  watched  in  silence. 

But  none,  of  all  that  sneered  and  feared  and  hoped 
and  prayed,  mixed  such  strange  emotions  as  Dickie 
Ellery.  He  had  dressed  in  his  uniform  and  left  the 
house ;  he  had  met  Oliver  who  told  him  something  about 
the  parade  ground;  Dickie  had  not  heard  clearly.  He 
shook  his  head  and  hurried  on;  he  must  see  the  redoubt. 
He  watched  from  the  wharves  the  strange  sight  of  men 
digging  busily  amid  flying  balls,  and  fancied  that  he 
could  descry  Frank's  own  figure — but  that  was  impos- 
sible. Then  he  learned  that  there  was  to  be  an  attack, 
and  knowing  that  he  could  see  best  from  Beacon  Hill, 
he  hastened  there.  On  the  way  he  passed  the  cottage, 
saw  Alice's  anxious  face  at  the  window,  and  took  her 
with  him. 

Beneath  his  shiny  trappings,  as  he  watched  the 
marching  troops,  his  heart  beat  now  so  fast  that  he 
panted,  now  so  slowly  that  he  could  scarcely  breathe  at 
all.  The  soldiers  in  their  advance  began  to  fire ;  he  saw 
the  sun  upon  the  level  barrels,  the  clouds  of  smoke,  and 
heard  the  short  discharges.  One  by  one  the  companies 
volleyed,  cloud  after  cloud  of  smoke  lifted  and  blew 
away;  steadily  the  troops  advanced,  and  less  by  rods 
and  yards  grew  the  space  between  the  forces.  And 
Dickie,  as  the  fateful  moment  neared,  felt  within  himself 
a  whirl  of  feelings. 

What  did  he  think?  What  was  the  strange  admira- 
tion that  looked  out  of  his  eyes,  not  upon  the  British 
troops,  but  upon  the  dingy  rebels !  And  what  new  emo- 
tion was  this  as  the  space  grew  shorter  and  shorter 
between  the  soldiers  and  the  farmers  ?  He  heard  one 
near  him  cry  aloud  in  triumph :  "  The  Yankees  have 
fled  already !  "  and  he  strained  his  eyes  at  the  silent 


Plot  and  Counterplot  343 

redoubt.  Had  then  the  rebels  slipped  away  in  fear  ?  No, 
he  saw  heads  above  the  parapet.  Why  should  that  give 
him  joy? 

And  then  he  saw  that  awful  sheet  of  flame.  The  curl- 
ing smoke  rolled  forth  and  hid  the  foremost  soldiers. 
Tiny  lightnings  darted  in  the  cloud ;  but  the  cloud  re- 
mained, and  Dickie  could  not  see  beneath  it.  It  was  all 
silent,  till  there  came  the  crash  of  that  terrific  fire. 
Then  burst  on  burst  of  sound,  tempered  by  distance  yet 
most  dreadful,  beat  upon  the  ear.  Onward  into  the 
smoke  pressed  the  succeeding  companies ;  the  top  of  the 
hill  had  disappeared,  the  fence  was  enfolded  and  lost. 
What  was  happening;  who  had  won?  Then  shattered, 
reeling  back,  out  of  the  smoke  came  the  disordered 
troops. 

"  Thank  God !  "  cried  Dickie,  and  he  knew  his  heart. 

He  knew,  and  in  that  moment  sprang  into  his  man- 
hood. The  quiet  of  his  father,  which  Frank  had  in  so 
great  degree,  entered  and  controlled  him ;  he  stood  and 
watched,  the  calmest  on  the  hill.  In  the  succeeding  hour 
men  around  him  cursed,  or  raved,  or  hid  grim  joy  for 
safety's  sake.  And  women,  as  a  town  watched  a  battle, 
groaned,  or  wept,  or  fainted.  But  Dickie,  expressionless 
but  for  the  fire  that  gleamed  in  his  eye,  and  the  move- 
ment in  his  cheek  of  the  muscles  of  his  jaw,  stood  like  a 
rock,  protected  Alice  from  the  crush,  and  said  no  further 
word. 

Alice  watched  with  less  emotion  than  Dickie  the 
winning  of  the  field.  She  was  a  woman ;  her  agony  was 
personal ;  in  her  thoughts  her  brother  and  lover  only 
were  concerned,  and  there  was  still  the  glimmer  of  hope. 
But  Dickie  in  his  new  patriotism  took  at  once  a  man's 
larger  view.  If  Frank  were  dead,  then  he  died  nobly 
and  died  blessed.  But  his  country,  a  new  mistress  now 
first  loved,  could  not  have  seemed  fairer  or  more  dear 


344  The  Colonials 

than  now,  when  Dickie  beheld  her  dying.  A  vision  rose 
up,  of  a  land  oppressed  and  cursed. 

Silently  they  went  together  down  the  hill,  among  a 
silent  crowd.  Men  carried  fainting  women;  or  them- 
selves scarcely  able  to  walk,  tottered  to  the  shore  to 
meet  the  boats  that  already  were  in  motion.  No  loud- 
voiced  Tory  boasted  now,  nor  triumphed  in  the  victory ; 
the  sight  of  the  thousand  bodies  scattered  in  the  fields 
of  Charlestown  put  a  seal  on  vainglory.  And  keeping 
close  together,  as  two  who  in  that  crowd  sympathised 
with  each  other's  deepest  feelings,  Dickie  and  Alice 
waited  the  arrival  of  the  wounded  and  the  dead. 

A  mourning  procession  met  them.  Before  it  reached 
them  they  saw  people  standing  aside  for  the  foremost 
coach,  and  hats  removed  with  reverence.  The  driver 
curbed  his  horses  with  strong  hand,  so  that  they  seemed 
to  prance  gayly  before  the  stylish  vehicle.  But  an  arm 
hung  limply  from  a  window,  and  above  it  they  saw  the 
pallid  face  of  Major  Harley. 

He  was  looking  among  the  crowd,  seeming  too  listless 
to  hold  his  head  erect,  yet  with  a  different  energy  scan- 
ning each  face  as  searching  for  a  friend.  The  look  of 
sickness  vanished,  colour  came  to  the  lips,  and  his  eyes 
sparkled  as  he  saw  Alice.  He  raised  his  arm  :  "  Stop !  " 
he  cried  with  some  strength. 

"  Stop !  "  repeated  Dickie.  The  driver  brought  his 
horses  to  a  halt. 

Alice  pressed  quickly  to  the  coach's  side,  and  took 
Harley's  hand.  It  was  cold  as  a  stone.  His  eyes,  as 
she  looked  into  them,  were  languid  again,  and  the  blood 
was  ebbing  in  his  cheeks. 

"  You  are  hurt !  "  she  cried.  "  Let  Dickie  get  in  with 
you  and  support  you." 

But  Dickie,  looking  over  her  head,  saw  huddled  forms 
within  the  carriage.  "  There  are  others  there,  Alice," 
he  said  quickly. 


Plot  and  Counterplot  345 

"  There  are  three  here,"  said  Harley  gently.  "  All 
dead,  as  I  shall  be  soon." 

"  No !  "  she  cried. 

"  I  am  twice  shot  through  the  body,"  he  answered. 
"  Let  me  look  at  you  a  moment,  then  we  will  drive  on." 

He  was  considerate  of  her,  even  then.  Her  eyes  filled 
with  tears  as  she  saw  death  looking  out  of  his,  and  she 
knew  her  words  vain  as  she  said :  "  You  shall  be 
saved !  " 

He  moved  his  head  in  dissent.  "  Better  die  now,"  he 
said,  "  rather  than  live  to  see  more  of  this  war  of 
brothers.  Would  I  had  resigned  my  commission,  as  I 
desired!  No  Englishman  can  gain  honour  from  this. 
Ellery,  there  is  your  answer." 

"  I  hear,"  answered  Dickie  humbly,  and  stepped  back. 

The  crowd,  out  of  respect,  had  stood  away.  Harley, 
alone  with  Alice,  looked  at  her  with  the  feeling  he  had 
never  dared  express. 

"  You  know  I  have  loved  you?  "  he  asked. 

"  God  bless  you  for  it !  "  she  responded  brokenly. 

"  You  bless  me  for  it?  "  he  said  surprised.  "  Then — " 
He  had  raised  himself  a  little  in  his  gratitude,  but  felt 
the  breaking  of  his  strength  within  him.  "  Good-by !  " 
he  added  quickly.  He  sank  back,  and  his  eyes  closed. 

"  Major  Harley !  "  cried  Alice,  terrified. 

Dickie  came  forward  and  drew  Alice  from  the  coach. 

"  Drive  on,"  he  said  to  the  driver. 

The  coach  started  onward,  and  the  others  that  had 
been  waiting  followed.  Alice  leaned  against  Dickie, 
her  eyes  streaming  with  tears,  but  he  regarded  the  pro- 
cession with  dry  eyes.  Not  Harley's  pathetic  death,  nor 
those  sad  coaches,  were  able  to  move  Dickie.  And  yet 
the  sight  was  one  to  rouse  emotion. 

"  In  the  first  carriage,"  says  Clarke's  narrative,  "  was 
Major  Harley  bleeding  and  dying,  and  three  dead  cap- 


346  The  Colonials 

tains  of  the  Fifty-second  Regiment.  The  second  con- 
tained four  dead  Officers."  And  others  followed  with 
their  lifeless  forms,  till  there  came  an  open  cart.  From 
the  cart  blood  dripped  upon  the  cobbles,  and  a  child, 
with  a  child's  shriek,  pointed  at  the  blood  and  ran  away. 

A  figure  came  pushing  through  the  crowd,  in  the  uni- 
form of  the  Volunteer  Association.  It  was  Oliver,  who 
made  his  way  to  Dickie  when  he  saw  him,  and  accosted 
him  abruptly. 

"  Ellery,"  he  said,  "  you  were  the  only  one  who  did 
not  come.  I  told  you  we  were  ordered  to  parade 
and  wait  orders.  Where  were  you?  " 

"  I  could  not  come,"  answered  Dickie.  But  he 
flushed. 

"  General  Ruggles  is  angry,"  said  Oliver.  "  He  spoke 
of  punishment." 

"  I  do  not  care,"  replied  Dickie  haughtily. 

They  were  both  under  the  strain  of  the  day's  excite- 
ment, and  parted  without  ceremony.  "  Wait  then !  " 
warned  Oliver  as  he  went. 

"  Do  what  you  please,"  answered  Dickie,  and  turned 
his  attention  to  Alice. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  urging  her  gently.  "  My  house  is 
near  at  hand.  You  shall  go  there,  and  I  will  get  you 
news."  They  went  on  and  neared  the  house,  moving 
slowly  through  the  crowd.  "  Let  us  cross  here,"  said 
Dickie  when  they  were  nearly  opposite  the  gate,  with 
the  alley  leading  to  the  old  Ellery  wharf  at  their  backs. 
"  Here  comes  something  that  may  cut  us  off." 

He  saw  bayonets  glistening  above  the  heads  of  the 
crowd ;  soldiers  were  coming.  Alice  was  deeply  moved, 
and  greatly  fatigued  after  standing  without  food  all  day 
upon  the  hill.  They  were  not  quick  enough  to  cross  the 
street.  The  crowd  prevented,  falling  back  before  the 
soldiers.  Dickie  stopped  at  the  curb,  and  looking  over 


Plot  and  Counterplot  347 

the  nearest  heads  saw  that  the  soldiers  were  not  many, 
but  that  there  were  men  among  them,  in  homespun, 
with  bound  arms. 

"  Prisoners !  "  he  cried. 

He  and  Alice  looked  at  each  other  with  a  sudden 
question.  Prisoners  from  Charlestown?  Then  Frank 
might  be  there.  Dickie  turned  quickly  and  pushed  to 
the  front  of  the  crowd,  drawing  Alice  after  him. 

Among  the  marching  group  there  was  a  clatter  and 
the  sound  of  a  fall.  "  He's  down  again !  "  cried  a  voice. 
"  Halt !  "  responded  another.  The  whole  small  body, 
prisoners  and  escort,  came  to  a  stand  opposite  the 
alley,  just  in  front  of  Dickie  and  Alice. 

A  prisoner  had  fallen ;  the  people  crowded  to  see  his 
face  as  the  soldiers  raised  him  up.  But  Dickie  stood 
a  moment,  looking.  There  were  scarcely  thirty  pris- 
oners in  all,  each  with  his  arms  tied  behind  his  back ; 
and  for  a  guard  there  were  about  a  dozen  soldiers. 
Dickie's  eye  ran  hastily  over  the  group.  "  I  do  not  see 
him,"  he  whispered  Alice.  "  Perhaps  he  is  the  one  that 
has  fallen."  He  turned  to  go,  but  Alice  caught  his  arm. 

A  man  stood  so  close  to  them  that  Dickie's  look  had 
passed  him  by.  But  Alice  saw  him  first  of  all.  The  tall 
prisoner,  with  shoulders  strongly  squared,  with  powder- 
grime  on  his  face  and  blood  clotted  on  his  forehead 
from  a  wound  under  his  hair — she  had  seen  that  form 
and  face  before,  looking  just  so,  in  the  little  hut  in  the 
woods,  or  standing  over  the  body  of  the  Panther. 

Dickie  turned  and  followed  her  look.  "  Frank !  "  he 
whispered. 

So  he  was  safe,  but  a  prisoner.  Saved,  but  for  \vhat 
death  ?  They  had  heard  it  said  that  rebels  taken  in  arms 
were  to  be  hung.  Frank  looked  at  them  not  unmoved, 
yet  smiling;  but  they  returned  his  look  with  alarm,  and 
questioned  with  their  eyes.  What  could  they  do? 


348  The  Colonials 

Dickie  looked  about  him.  The  front  line  of  the 
guards  stood,  resting  on  their  muskets,  staring  sternly 
before  them  in  the  manner  of  soldiers  who  know  they 
are  impressing  a  crowd.  Their  backs  were  turned,  and 
they  would  not  see.  The  soldiers  who  marched  at  the 
side  of  the  detachment  had  gone  to  help  the  fallen 
prisoner,  and  the  rest  of  the  guard  were  some  yards 
away,  with  prisoners  and  crowd  between  them.  Dickie 
felt  hastily  in  his  pockets. 

"  A  knife !  "  he  whispered  eagerly. 

He  had  none.  And  Alice  gave  a  sigh  for  her  scissors, 
left  at  home  with  her  tatting.  Then  she  found  help.  A 
bullet  had  pierced  Frank's  waistcoat,  and  torn  it;  the 
soldiers,  when  they  first  seized  him,  tore  it  more. 
Beneath  the  rent  showed  in  his  belt  the  hilt  of  a  knife. 
Alice  saw  it  and  knew  its  Indian  carving.  Heavy,  short 
and  sharp,  it  was  Benjy's  knife,  Frank's  throwing  knife, 
sure  as  a  tomahawk,  as  he  had  explained  to  her  once, 
and  more  deadly  if  sent  between  the  ribs  or  at  the  throat. 
He  had  given  it  into  her  hand  once ;  she  had  been  ready 
to  use  it  on  herself.  Now  she  reached  out  quickly  and 
drew  it  from  its  sheath. 

"  Give  it  to  me !  "  demanded  Dickie,  and  took  it  from 
her.  "  Turn !  "  he  said  to  Frank. 

The  chance  was  good.  To  gain  the  house  was  not 
possible,  yet  the  wharf  was  near,  and  once  in  its  shelter 
Frank  knew  himself  safe.  But  the  risk  to  Dickie  was 
evident. 

"  No,"  he  answered.    "  Think  of  yourself." 

"  Turn  !  "  repeated  Dickie  fiercely.  He  seized  Frank 
by  the  shoulders  and  turned  him  half  about.  Frank 
strained  at  the  cord  that  held  his  arms,  Dickie  put  the 
knife  to  it,  and  it  sprang  in  two. 

Frank  shook  his  arms  free,  took  the  knife  from 
Dickie,  and  turned  quietly  to  slip  among  the  crowd. 


Plot  and  Counterplot  349 

But  a  soldier  heard  the  sound  of  the  yielding  cord,  and 
quicker  than  his  fellows,  looked  and  saw  Frank  free. 
"  That  man  is  loose !  "  he  shouted,  and  plunged  forward, 
reckless  of  those  who  intervened.  His  comrades  turned 
at  once  to  his  aid.  The  soldier  had  his  hand  outstretched 
to  seize  'Frank  when  Dickie,  stepping  between,  received 
him  in  his  arms. 

"  Confound  you !  "  cried  Dickie  loudly.  "  What  are 
you  doing?"  He  cast  the  fellow  from  him  violently 
against  the  soldier  who  came  next.  "  Run!  "  he  hissed 
to  his  brother.  Frank  gave  Alice  one  look  of  gratitude, 
and  turned  toward  the  passage  to  the  wharf.  But  there 
were  people  in  the  way. 

"  Run !  "  repeated  Dickie,  and  turned  to  block  the 
other  soldier. 

All  the  suppressed  passion  of  the  day  surged  to 
Dickie's  head.  The  two  soldiers,  disengaged  from  each 
other's  embrace,  started  again,  cursing,  to  seize  Frank. 
Dickie  tripped  the  first,  and  with  a  shove  sent  the  other 
against  a  bystander.  He  seized  a  third  by  the  collar. 
"  What  are  you  doing?  "  he  demanded.  "  Have  a  care 
of  the  lady  here  !  " 

"  Let  me  go !  "  cried  the  soldier,  "  don't  you  see  that 
fellow's  loose?  " 

Dickie  saw  that  Frank  had  cleared  himself  from  the 
crowd,  and  disappeared  in  the  alley.  He  released  the 
soldier.  Guard  and  people  rushed  headlong  after  Frank. 
"  Come  quickly,"  whispered  Dickie  to  Alice.  "  Frank 
will  take  to  the  water;  he  can  swim,  and  under  the 
wharves  they  cannot  see  to  aim.  They'll  never  get  him; 
all  boats  are  seized,  or  in  use.  Come  before  I'm  seen." 

But  the  soldier  with  damaged  nose  and  cheek,  whom 
Dickie  had  first  thrown  into  his  comrade's  arms,  and 
then  tripped,  pointed  him  out  to  the  lieutenant  of  the 
guard. 


350  The  Colonials 

"  That  man,"  he  cried,  "  stopped  me  from  seizing  the 
prisoner." 

"  Your  soldier,"  said  Dickie  to  the  officer  readily, 
"  was  charging  right  upon  this  lady,  sir." 

The  lieutenant  regarded  him  sternly.  "Some  one  told 
the  prisoner  to  run.  Was  it  not  you?  Stay — "  He 
picked  up  the  cord  that  had  fallen  from  Frank's  arms. 
"  That  is  cut.  Did  you  cut  it,  sir?  I  was  at  the  coffee- 
house last  night  and  observed  your  actions.  Sir,  I 
suspect  you ! " 

"  Report  me  to  your  superiors,"  answered  Dickie 
haughtily.  "  They  will  know  where  to  find  me."  He 
turned  to  Alice.  "  Come  away,"  he  said.  As  the 
soldiers  began  to  return  from  their  fruitless  chase,  he 
and  Alice  went  away. 

"  A  second  count  against  me,"  he  said  when  they  had 
left  the  place  behind. 

"  Oh,  Dickie,"  she  said,  "  will  they  not  arrest  you?  " 

He  was  elated  by  his  act,  and  indifferent  to  the  con- 
sequences. "  I  do  not  care,"  he  said.  "  Let  me  take 
you  home.  I  will  go  and  find  if  your  brother  is  safe. 
Here  come  more  soldiers." 

"  Tis  George !  "  cried  Alice  joyously  as  the  crowd 
opened.  "  George — and  unhurt !  " 

Unhurt,  yes,  and  unhurt  were  the  men  that  marched 
with  him.  Harriman  was  behind  him  and  five  privates 
of  their  company ;  next  came  Sotheran  and  only  three 
men.  Behind  were  other  little  squads  of  officers  and 
men.  Three,  five,  or  seven  to  a  company,  there 
marched  the  unmaimed  remnants  of  the  light  infantry 
and  grenadiers. 

"  Take  me  home  now,"  said  Alice  when  they  had 
passed. 

He  left  her  at  her  door,  and  started  for  his  own.  He 
expected  to  wait  at  home  until  nightfall  for  Frank,  but 
his  brother  was  there  before  him. 


CHAPTER  II 

CLASH    OF   SWORDS 

As  Dickie  went  up  the  stairs  he  met  Ann  coming 
down.  In  her  arms  was  a  bundle  of  wet  clothes. 

"  Is  Frank  here  already? "  he  cried.  "  How  came  he 
here  unseen?  " 

"  He  is  in  his  room,"  she  replied. 

Dickie  hurried  to  Frank's  chamber,  and  found  him 
nearly  dressed  in  a  dry  suit.  "Frank!"  he  cried, 
entering. 

"  Dickie,"  responded  his  brother,  meeting  him  gladly, 
"  how  can  I  thank  you?  But  were  you  not  seen?  " 

"What  care  I?"  answered  Dickie.  He  burst  out 
with  his  news :  "  I  am  with  you  now — a  Whig,  a  rebel!  " 

"What!"  cried  his  brother. 

He  made  no  question  of  the  statement — its  truth 
shone  forth.  Frank  saw  in  Dickie's  face  the  evidences 
of  his  long  mental  struggle,  and  of  his  dreadful  day. 
There  were  rings  under  his  eyes,  his  cheeks  were  pale, 
and  in  this  moment  of  reunion  his  lip  trembled.  Frank 
realised  what,  in  secret,  his  brother  had  experienced; 
and  between  sympathy  and  joy,  tears  rushed  to  his  eyes. 

"  Dickie,"  he  cried,  "  I  would  have  given  my  right 
hand  for  this !  " 

And  Dickie,  seeing  the  tears,  knew  what  emotions 
underlay  Frank's  iron  self-control.  The  two  clasped 
hands.  Standing  so,  looking  into  each  other's  eyes, 
no  veil  was  between  the  brothers  now,  no  separating 
chasm. 


352  The  Colonials 

"  Forever!  "  Dickie  cried.  "  I  am  with  you  forever! 
In  spite  of  this  defeat — in  spite  of  everything!  I  shall 
be  arrested  soon;  I  do  not  care."  Tears  came  into  his 
own  eyes.  "  Oh,  I  am  ashamed!  So  long  blind!  So 
long  a  fool!  I  deserve  punishment.  But  to  have  been 
with  you  this  day!  And  now,  if  I  might  but  slip  away 
from  the  town,  and  go  to  Doctor  Warren " 

"  Doctor  Warren  is  dead,"  interrupted  Frank. 

"  Dead!  "  cried  Dickie.  "  Dead— how?  "  He  started 
away  from  Frank  in  horror. 

"  Shot  as  I  was  urging  him  from  the  redoubt,"  an- 
swered Frank.  "  He  fell  in  my  arms,  dead  on  the  in- 
stant. The  soldiers  seized  me  as  I  laid  him  down.  He 
came  to  the  field  with  a  headache,"  said  Frank  sadly, 
"  and  thus  was  it  cured." 

Dickie  paced  the  room  wringing  his  hands,  and  with 
sweat  on  his  brow.  "  Oh,  they  shall  pay!  They  shall 
pay!  "  he  cried  passionately. 

"  You  shall  go  safe  from  the  town,"  said  Frank;  "  but 
not  to  him." 

"  How  can  I  go?  "  returned  Dickie.  "  I  cannot  swim, 
as  you.  All  boats  are  seized." 

"  There  is  a  way,  and  a  boat,"  interrupted  Frank;  but 
Dickie  did  not  heed. 

"  I  must  pay  for  my  folly,"  he  hurried  on.  "  But 
some  one  shall  pay  as  well — he  who  led  me  to  volunteer, 
who  has  been  conspiring  against  you." 

"  Whom  do  you  mean?  "  cried  Frank,  as  Dickie  went 
to  the  door.  "  What  think  you  to  do?  " 

"  Captain  Sotheran,"  answered  Dickie.  "  Let  me  but 
find  him!" 

"Remain,  Dickie!"  commanded  Frank.  "Dickie,  I 
beg  you! " 

But  Dickie  was  already  out  of  the  room  and  running 
down  the  stair.  In  another  moment  Frank  heard  the 


Plot  and  Counterplot  353 

clang  of  the  front  door.  He  snatched  hastily  at  his 
shoes,  to  put  them  on  and  follow. 

Dickie,  fever-brained  and  full  of  vengeful  purpose, 
pushed  his  way  along  the  crowded  streets.  His  sword 
was  at  his  side ;  he  put  his  hand  on  it  with  satisfaction, 
and  scanned  each  face.  Mistaken  Dickie,  thinking  that 
he,  unskilled,  could  with  strength  alone  punish  the  man 
who  led  him  into  this  coil!  The  one  likely  place  to 
find  his  enemy  was  the  British  Coffee-House,  and  there 
he  went.  In  its  entry  he  met  waiters  jostling  together, 
wild-eyed  and  nervous,  giving  each  other,  as  they 
passed,  scraps  of  news  which  they  had  caught  from  the 
officers. 

"Is  Captain  Sotheran  here?"  demanded  Dickie. 

"  In  there,  sir,"  was  the  answer;  and  Dickie,  satisfied, 
entered  the  common  room  and  stood  unobserved  by 
the  door. 

A  little  group  was  there,  drinking  and  eating  as  they 
stood.  The  excitement  of  the  day  was  in  the  room, 
as  in  every  corner  of  the  town;  nerves  yet  strung  kept 
most  of  the  company  on  their  feet,  talking  fluently  or 
silent  with  a  brooding  stillness.  Dickie  noted  the  hag- 
gard looks  of  some,  the  excitability  of  others,  and 
searched  for  his  object.  He  saw  Tudor  and  Ormsby 
and  Harriman,  with  some  of  the  volunteers,  among 
them  Anthony  and  Oliver.  Only  one  man  was  seated, 
calmly  eating — Captain  Sotheran. 

"  Poor  Harley!  "  Tudor  was  saying  with  a  sigh. 

"  Ay,"  agreed  Harriman.  He  set  down  his  glass,  to 
take  it  up  again  immediately.  "  But  whom  can  you 
not  call  poor?  'Fore  God,  I  am  ashamed  to  stand  here 
unwounded." 

"Oh,  Lord!  Oh,  God!"  Ormsby  ejaculated  under 
his  breath. 

And  the  Tories  stood  about  with  gloomy  faces,  know- 


354  The  Colonials 

ing  that  they  could  say  nothing  to  lighten  the  troubles 
of  their  associates.  But  Dickie  made  his  presence 
known. 

"So  the  Yankees  could  fight?"  he  asked  aloud. 

The  company  turned,  a  sound  coming  from  the  breast 
of  each — an  instinctive  snarl  at  the  boast  that  was  cast 
back  at  them.  Perceiving  Dickie,  they  paused  in 
surprise. 

He  spoke  again : 

"  And  the  four  regiments,  gentlemen,  that  were  to 
march  unmolested  from  Boston  to  the  Hudson?  Went 
you  far  to-day? " 

They  remembered  Gage's  boast,  and  the  taunt  stung. 
Officers  and  Tories  flushed  with  anger.  Harriman's 
hand  flew  to  his  sword-hilt,  and  he  started  forward. 

'  'Tis  a  poor  jest,"  he  cried.    "  Ellery,  are  you  mad?  " 

"  Dickie,"  protested  Anthony,  pushing  in  between, 
"  what  is  wrong?  Why  were  you  not  with  us  to-day?  " 

"  Yes,  where  were  you? "  demanded  Oliver  and 
Wharton. 

"  He  was  afraid!  "  cried  Ormsby  loudly. 

Dickie  saw  their  red  faces,  and  welcomed  the  coming 
struggle.  He  smiled  at  Ormsby. 

"  So  you  have  learned,  Lieutenant,  that  all  provin- 
cials are  cowards?  " 

It  was  too  much.  They  made  one  general  movement 
toward  him,  and  Ormsby  and  Harriman  half  drew  their 
swords.  But  none  found  words,  so  furious  were  they. 
And  he  puzzled  them  as  he  stood  there — he  who  had 
been  with  them  and  for  them,  now  suddenly  jeering  at 
their  losses. 

"  Am  I  challenged?  "  asked  Dickie  joyously.  "  Is  a 
mere  colonial  worthy  of  your  swords?" 

"Draw,  Ellery!"  cried  Harriman  and  Ormsby  to- 
gether. 


Plot  and  Counterplot  355 

"  I  will  choose  my  own  adversary,"  he  returned. 

There  was  a  moment  of  revulsion.  Harriman  and 
Ormsby  both  drew  back,  and  pushed  their  swords  into 
the  sheaths.  He  seemed  not  angry;  they  thought  his 
mind  disturbed  as  he  stood  and  strangely  smiled.  And 
they  had  liked  him,  young  as  he  was,  buoyant  and 
amusing. 

"  I  will  choose,"  went  on  Dickie,  "  the  man  I  most 
despise — the  unworthiest  of  you  and  of  his  uniform." 

His  eyes  began  to  burn,  and  his  cheeks  to  flush.  He 
put  aside  those  in  front  of  him,  and  with  two  strides 
was  at  Sotheran's  table.  Dickie  leaned  across  it  and 
looked  at  the  captain,  and  in  surprise  the  others  listened 
for  his  words. 

"  Captain,"  said  Dickie,  "  I  saw  dishonour  in  your 
eyes  last  night." 

Sotheran  was  unmoved;  he  wiped  his  mouth  and  laid 
the  napkin  down. 

"  Truly?  "  he  asked  quietly. 

But  his  own  eyes  began  to  flicker  their  cold  light. 
Mr.  Ellery  had  hastened  to  him  with  an  incoherent  tale 
of  a  discovery  by  Dickie.  How  much  did  the  boy 
know? 

"  My  uncle — "  began  Dickie. 

"Your  poor  uncle!"  drawled  the  captain.  But  he 
frowned;  the  boy's  tongue  was  dangerous. 

"  Shall  I  tell  these  gentlemen,"  asked  Dickie,  "  what 
I  think  of  him  and  you?  Or  will  you —  He  made  a 
threatening  pause,  so  earnest  that  his  youthful  grandilo- 
quence could  not  spoil  it. 

"  Certainly,"  answered  Sotheran.  He  rose  and 
stepped  around  the  table.  "  Ormsby,  will  you  secure 
the  door?  " 

Those  two  who  loved  Dickie — Anthonv  and  Tudor — 


356  The  Colonials 

started  forward  to  intercept.  But  Sotheran  stopped 
them  with  a  gesture. 

"  Henry,"  cried  Tudor  in  terror,  "  you  will  not  let 
him  anger  you?  " 

"  George,"  answered  Sotheran,  "  no  one  shall  dic- 
tate to  me  here."  He  turned  and  struck  Dickie  on  the 
breast.  "  Draw,  you  cub!  " 

Anthony  fell  back;  Tudor  was  stupefied;  no  one  else 
moved  to  prevent.  By  the  wretched  code  of  honour,  he 
who  demanded  bloodshed  must  be  gratified.  Even 
under  other  circumstances,  the  bystanders,  though 
aware  of  the  inequality  of  the  combat,  would  scarcely 
have  raised  a  second  protest  for  humanity's  sake.  But 
the  experiences  of  the  day  had  dulled  all  senses  to 
scenes  of  blood;  the  feelings  of  the  evening  were 
scarcely  better  than  after  Concord,  and  all  were  indif- 
ferent to  individual  fates.  Morosely  callous  to  such 
a  quarrel,  officers  and  Tories  prepared  to  watch  Dick- 
ie's sacrifice. 

The  two  stood  opposed — Dickie  with  his  sword  held 
awkwardly,  Sotheran  sure  of  himself.  Dickie  knew  but 
the  first  few  movements,  learned  in  the  officers'  sword 
squad;  he  stood  on  guard.  Sotheran  smiled  at  him  with 
irony. 

"  Will  you  begin?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  cried  Dickie,  and  raised  his  arm — too  clums- 
ily. Sotheran's  wrist  turned,  his  sword  came  instantly 
into  line  with  Dickie's  body,  and  his  left  arm  prepared 
to  balance  a  lunge.  One  second  more!  Tudor  turned 
away. 

The  door  burst  open.  A  darting  figure  came  between 
the  combatants,  and  a  sheathed  blade  struck  up  Soth- 
eran's point.  An  outstretched  hand  caught  Dickie's 
wrist,  and  thrust  the  lad  back.  "  Dickie!  "  cried  a  ring- 
ing voice.  "Aside!  Give  me  your  place!  So!" — and 


Plot  and  Counterplot  357 

the  blade  came  flashing  out.  "  Now,  Captain  Sotheran, 
at  your  service !  " 

Frank  Ellery,  armed  with  his  father's  rapier,  stood  in 
his  brother's  place. 

The  company  gasped  at  the  suddenness  of  the  inter- 
ruption. Startled,  they  saw  this  Whig  in  their  midst — 
the  one  who,  of  all  in  the  town,  most  nearly  represented 
in  himself  the  opposing  faction.  Tudor  cried  out  in- 
voluntarily with  relief;  but  his  cry  was  checked  by 
alarm  at  what  would  happen  next.  Yet  Sotheran 
dropped  his  point  and  stepped  back. 

"  You  come  too  late,  sir,"  he  said.  "  Your  brother 
and  I  were  engaged.  I  have  the  right  to  finish  the 
combat."  His  eye  sparkled  and  his  teeth  shone. 
"  Leave  your  place,  sir!  "  he  directed. 

But  Frank  did  not  move. 

"And  I  protest!"  interrupted  Ormbsy.  "Such  a 
change  is  against  all  rule." 

"  Give  me  the  place,  Frank!  "  cried  Dickie. 

"Never!"  answered  his  brother.  He  looked  at 
Ormsby.  "So,  sir,  you  demand  a  murder;  and  you 
others,  gentlemen,  would  permit  it;  but  I  will  not."  He 
turned  to  Sotheran,  unyielding.  "  Captain,  unless  you 
allow  me  to  take  my  brother's  place,  I  will  expose  you 
now!  " 

"Yokel!"  answered  Sotheran.  His  cheek  grew  red. 
Thus  cheaply  was  he  to  exchange  his  long-planned  re- 
venge, by  the  mere  death  of  his  rival?  "  Give  place!  " 
he  cried  again. 

"  I  will  ask  you  once  more,"  answered  Frank.  "  Will 
you  fight  me  now!  " 

"  Never!  "  cried  Sotheran.    "  I  claim  my  right." 

"  And  I  enforce  mine,"  replied  Frank.  He  held  his 
sword  ready  against  a  sudden  attack;  his  eye  never  left 
Sotheran's  face.  His  voice  became  deeper;  the  listeners 


358  The  Colonials 

felt  the  importance  of  his  message  as  he  began  to  speak 
again. 

"  Some  years  ago,  gentlemen,  Captain  Sotheran, 
then  but  a  lieutenant " 

"  Damn  you!  "  shouted  Sotheran.  In  a  moment  his 
cheek  had  grown  pale.'  "  Here,  then,  rebel!  " 

"  My  thanks/'  answered  Frank  quietly.  "  Your 
choice  is  best — death  before  disgrace." 

"  You  have  chosen  your  own  death,"  replied  Soth- 
eran. "Your  brother  follows  you.  Are  you  ready?" 

"  Ready." 

They  took  position,  and  the  swords  engaged. 

There  was  no  need  to  ask  Frank  to  begin.  The  man 
he  despised  was  at  the  point  of  his  sword;  his  first 
thrust  was  so  fierce  that  Sotheran  with  difficulty  swept 
death  aside.  And  as  the  panting  breaths  of  the  two 
rose  in  the  silence  of  the  room,  while  the  rasp  of  steel 
and  the  scuff  of  shoes  made  the  only  other  sound,  the 
lookers-on  saw  that  the  two  were  mated. 

They  were  tall,  and  lean,  and  quick.  Each  had  the 
great  acquirement  of  the  swordsman:  body,  arm,  and 
wrist  that  with  perfect  mechanism  obeyed  the  instinct 
of  the  brain.  Instinct  it  was,  not  thought,  for  the 
movements  were  quick  as  sight;  and  the  narrow  parry- 
ing circles,  the  undeviating  thrusts,  executed  their 
movements  with  least  expenditure  of  space  and  time. 
Rapid  recoveries,  quick  counter-thrusts,  and  instant 
ripostes,  were  numerous  in  the  first  minute.  In  that  hot, 
short  rally  their  blades  seemed  forked,  so  flashed  they 
in  and  out;  and  death  hovered  above  the  combatants, 
ready  to  seize  on  either.  And  yet  the  main  advantage 
was  with  Frank,  for  he  was  the  assailant. 

"  If  the  fellow—"  muttered  Ormsby.    "  Ah!  " 

There  was  a  cry,  a  clatter  of  a  falling  sword,  and  the 
spectators  sprang  forward.  Frank,  baulked,  stood 
glaring  angrily,  and  Sotheran  supported  himself  against 


Plot  and  Counterplot  359 

a  table.  His  sword  was  on  the  floor;  his  left  foot,  as 
he  had  moved  to  escape  a  lunge,  was  twisted  at  right- 
angles  from  its  usual  position.  The  ankle  was  dis- 
located. 

"  Pistols!  "  cried  Frank,  and  stamped  his  foot.  "  The 
captain  and  I  shall  not  separate  so  easily.  Bring  pistols 
here!" 

But  "I  protest!"  cried  Ormsby;  and  "I  protest!" 
cried  Harriman.  The  latter  stood  forward  boldly. 

"  He  is  in  pain,"  he  cried;  and  Sotheran's  white  lips 
bore  out  the  statement.  "  He  could  not  aim.  I  forbid 
further  combat." 

Frank  ground  his  teeth.  Over  Harriman's  shoulder 
he  looked  at  Sotheran.  "  Captain,"  he  said,  "  another 
time." 

Sotheran  made  no  answer. 

"  Come,  Dickie,"  said  Frank.    He  sheathed  his  sword. 

"  I  arrest  Dickie,"  cried  Oliver,  stepping  forward. 

Dickie  took  his  sword  in  both  hands,  broke  it,  and 
threw  the  hilt  and  point  at  Oliver's  feet. 

"  Here  I  am,"  he  said. 


On  the  momentous  day  night  had  at  last  descended. 
Its  pitying  shade  covered  the  hill  of  battle,  and  the 
shore  where  the  dead  lay  ungathered.  It  calmed  the 
weary  to  sleep,  it  quieted  excitement  and  fear,  and  for 
a  little  while  it  lulled  even  grief.  Movement  had  ceased 
in  the  two  hostile  camps,  and  the  town  settled  into  a 
stupor  of  repose. 

But  not  even  darkness  could  dim  the  significance  of 
the  day.  The  camp  of  defeat  was  the  home  of  confi- 
dence, where  Prescott  begged  for  but  another  regi- 
ment, promising  to  retake  the  field,  and  where  Putnam 
was  planning  a  new  redoubt  on  the  nearest  hill.  And 
the  field  of  victory  was  a  field  of  foreboding. 


360  The  Colonials 

There,  where  groans  rose  constantly,  and  flickering 
lanterns  passed  to  and  fro,  one  man  watched  through 
the  night.  General  Howe  sat  wrapped  in  his  cloak.  In 
spite  of  the  wound  in  his  foot,  fatigue  came  over  him, 
but  he  gave  command  that  he  should  be  kept  awake.  In 
his  long  vigil,  while  the  groans  of  his  dying  soldiers 
fell  on  his  ear,  he  lived  the  day  again.  In  the  slight 
fever  of  his  wound  again  and  again  repeated  themselves 
a  dreadful  series  of  visions. 

Well  it  was  for  America  that  the  fate  of  the  war 
hung  on  Howe's  experiences.  As  much  as,  after  the 
first  dismay  of  defeat,  the  battle  of  Charlestown  en- 
couraged the  Yankees,  so  much  it  took  heart  from  the 
man  who  was  soon  to  become  commander-in-chief  in 
America.  Howe's  whole  future  was  affected  by  the 
memory  of  that  day.  The  shocking  recollection  never 
left  him;  it  pressed  like  a  load  upon  his  mind,  and  rose, 
spectre-like,  to  daunt  each  project.  Never  again  was 
he  to  send  with  confidence  his  men  against  entrenched 
Americans. 

Yet  the  future  for  the  other  side  was  doubtful.  Fran- 
cis Ellery,  standing  at  the  library  window  in  thought, 
looking  out  upon  the  dark  night,  without  sleep  as  he 
had  been  for  thirty-six  hours,  weary  and  disappointed, 
saw  little  to  encourage  him. 

Ann  came  behind  him  and  plucked  his  coat.  "  Sure," 
she  hinted,  "  ye'll  be  going  soon." 

"  And  Dickie  a  prisoner?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  go!  "  she  cried.  "  Take  the  other  boat  and  go, 
or  I  will  lose  you  both.  They  may  learn  you  were  at 
the  battle." 

"  No  one  recognised  me,"  he  returned. 

"  They  may  find  you  wrote  to  Doctor  Warren." 

"  Dickie  risked  his  life  for  me,"  he  answered.  "  I 
shall  stav  and  trv  to  save  him." 


CHAPTER  III 

PRISON 

Never  again  was  there  in  beleaguered  Boston  the 
gay  confidence  that  had  existed  before  the  seventeenth 
of  June.  Hesitation  clouded  the  counsels  of  the  gen- 
erals, and  memory  brought  doubt  to  those  of  lesser 
rank.  Never  again  fell  boasts*  easily  from  Tory  lips, 
and  forecasts  were  always  made  with  a  backward  men- 
tal look  upon  Charlestown  hillside  and  its  dead.  Now 
that  new  gravestones  had  arisen  in  Boston  church- 
yards, and  great  gaps  in  the  regiments  had  to  be  filled, 
while  daily  the  wounded  were  dying  in  hospitals,  there 
could  no  longer  be  ease  and  lightheartedness. 

Alice,  a  silent  looker-on,  saw  many  things.  She 
learned  that  Gage 'was  completely  checked:  with  his 
crippled  army  there  was  no  further  hope  of  taking  Dor- 
chester. She  saw  the  sadness,  the  dismay,  in  every 
circle,  where  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest  all  were 
counting  their  losses.  The  light  of  the  town  was  snuffed 
out,  and  for  many  days  all  were  in  gloom. 

The  word  from  England  did  not  lighten  it.  London's 
reception  of  the  news  of  Concord  fight  was  scarcely 
heartening.  His  majesty  was  determined,  at  whatever 
cost,  to  crush  the  rebellion.  But  a  part  of  that  cost 
had  been  counted  out  in  Charlestown,  and  the  new  say- 
ing of  the  Yankees,  whispered  among  the  Whigs,  gave 
an  estimate  of  the  remainder:  "We  will  sell  them  an- 


362  The  Colonials 

m 

other  hill  at  the  same  price."  The  same  price!  And  a 
circle  of  hills  surrounded  the  town! 

But  in  England  there  were  those  who  did  not  stand 
with  the  king.  The  citizens  of  London  petitioned  him 
to  dismiss  his  ministers.  Admiral  Keppel,  while  ready 
to  fight  the  Frenchman  and  Spaniard,  preferred  not  to 
do  duty  in  America.  Lord  Chatham  was  about  to  with- 
draw his  son  from  military  duty  in  Canada.  Granville 
Sharpe,  in  the  Ordnance  Department,  had  refused  to 
take  part  even  in  the  routine  despatch  of  military  stores 
to  America,  and  was  expected  soon  to  retire  from  the 
post.  Lord  Effingham,  upon  orders  to  sail  with  his 
regiment  for  America,  had  withdrawn  from  the  army. 
At  this  last  item  Tudor  winced. 

"  So  good  a  soldier,"  he  explained  to  Alice ;  "  so 
young  and  promising!  His  career  is  ruined.  The  king 
is  angry;  no  place  will  be  opened  to  him  in  future." 

"And  the  other  officers  of  his  regiment?"  asked 
Alice.  "Have  any  of  them  resigned?" 

"  Eh— eh?  "  stammered  Tudor.  "  No,  not  that  I  have 
heard."  He  cut  the  conversation  short  and  left  her; 
but  he  came  another  morning  with  a  still  more  troubled 
face. 

"  Have  you  heard  the  story  of  the  recorder  of  Lon- 
don? "  he  asked.  "  They  say  that  when  the  news  of 
April  came,  he  appeared  in  a  full  suit  of  mourning. 
Some  one  asked  him  if  he  had  lost  a  relative.  '  Yes,' 
he  replied;  '  many  brothers  at  Lexington  and  Concord.' 
Think  of  that!" 

He  would  not  let  her  speak  of  it  more,  but  plunged 
into  talk  of  other  things.  Yet  a  cloud  remained  on  his 
brow. 

And  more  had  happened  than  Tudor  knew.  The 
Common  HalJ  of  London  addressed  Lord  Effingham  as 
a  true  Englishman;  the  merchants  of  Dublin  gave  him 


Plot  and  Counterplot  363 

their  thanks.  The  disaffection  reached  even  the  king's 
brother,  who,  travelling  on  the  continent  to  be  free  of 
the  atmosphere  of  the  court,  at  Metz  gave  to  a  young 
Frenchman  named  Lafayette  such  an  account  of  Con- 
cord and  Lexington  that  the  resulting  benefit  to  Amer- 
ica was  incalculable. 

Such  \vas  the  spirit  in  England.  How  would  the  news 
of  Charlestown  battle  affect  it?  It  was  plain,  at  least, 
how  matters  stood  in  America.  The  rebels  were  for- 
tifying rapidly,  and  the  Boston  Whigs  were  preparing 
for  a  long  siege.  Alice,  in  her  walks,  saw  flower  gar- 
dens dug  up  and  planted  with  vegetables  against  a 
winter  scarcity  of  food  which  just  then — in  June — • 
seemed  impossibly  far  away.  Even  the  Savages'  gar- 
den was  destroyed;  Alice  had  seen  Barbara  ordering  the 
death  of  the  great  lilac-bush. 

But  the  most  portentous  sign  was  the  defection  of 
Dickie  Ellery.  All  had  known  and  loved  him.  The 
knowledge  that  he  was  in  prison,  willingly  suffering  for 
liberty,  heartened  the  Whigs  and  brought  doubt  to  his 
former  comrades. 

"  The  waverers  are  all  against  us  now,"  complained 
Oliver  to  his  superior.  "  Those  I  had  hopes  of  persuad- 
ing will  not  listen  to  another  word." 

"  And  contributions  have  ceased  altogether,"  added 
General  Ruggles.  "  We  won  the  fight,  yet  they  turn  to 
the  Whigs.  And  even  young  Paddock " 

"No,  no!"  protested  Oliver  earnestly.  "  'Tis  but 
grief  for  the  loss  of  his  friend." 

Anthony  had  become  a  pitiful  sight.  He  struggled 
to  hold  up  his  head,  but  nothing  could  disguise  the  sad- 
ness in  his  eyes.  Even  the  regulars,  doubly  busy  as  they 
were,  took  notice  of  him. 

"  Have  compassion  on  the  poor  fellow,"  begged 
Tudor  of  his  sister. 


364  The  Colonials 

"As  if  we  were  not  fast  friends  already!"  replied 
Alice  indignantly.  "But,  George,  tell  me  this:  Would 
Captain  Sotheran  have  harmed  Dickie?" 

"  No,"  he  said  quickly,  "no;  I  cannot  believe  it." 

"  Very  well,"  she  said.  "  Christine  learns  from  his 
servant — that  man,"  she  interrupted  herself,  "  can  be 
trusted  with  the  girl?  " 

"  I  think  so,"  he  answered.  "  I  know  nothing  bad 
of  him." 

Tabb  came  frequently  to  the  cottage.  "  He  tells 
Christine,"  resumed  Alice,  "  that  his  master  is  still  in 
bed." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Tudor.  "  It  is  very  hard  to  be  so 
confined." 

"  It  is  harder  for  Dickie,"  she  returned.  "  George, 
will  you  secure  me  permission  to  visit  him?  " 

He  demurred.  "  I  am  so  busy,  I  do  not  know  when  I 
could  go  with  you.  And  the  new  jailer,  Brush,  is  coarse 
and  rough." 

"  Anthony  will  go  with  me,"  she  returned. 

And  this  was  the  scene  Alice  Tudor  saw  as,  attended 
by  Anthony  Paddock,  she  entered  the  prison  gate:  The 
guard  had  saluted  and  let  her  pass,  and  Frank  Ellery 
came  to  meet  her,  with  a  bloated  man  at  his  side,  shak- 
ing great  fists,  and  a  bedraggled  woman  holding  Frank's 
arm.  An  uproarious  rabble — women  of  the  camp, 
soldiers  jailed  for  petty  offences — crowded  behind, 
while  cabbage-stalks  and  rotten  fruit  were  flying  thickly. 
With  such  faces  before  her,  such  dirt,  and  such  noise, 
Alice  paused,  astonished  and  dismayed.  This  pande- 
monium was  his  majesty's  jail! 

"  Let  you  see  your  brother!  "  the  jailer  was  roaring. 
"I  think  so!  Yes,  you  Whig,  you  proud  Ellery,  you 
rebel!  Ah— h "  . 

He,  and  the  group  behind  him,  paused  in  full  tongue 


Plot  and  Counterplot  365 

as  they  saw  Alice.  Fit  subject  for  surprise  to  them  she 
was — Diana  at  the  border  of  a  slough,  purity  confront- 
ing vileness.  The  men  gazed  open-mouthed,  but  the 
women,  as  they  saw  her  wide  eyes,  turned  away.  They 
read  in  her  face  not  purity  alone,  but  also  pity,  and 
long-forgotten  shame  oppressed  them. 

Brush  knew  her,  and  fawned.  "  Mistress  Tudor,  can 
I  serve  you?  " 

She  had  seen,  ay,  and  lived  for  days  in,  a  worse  place 
than  this:  that  Wyandot  camp.  She  understood  the 
man  who  cringed  before  her,  but  she  did  not  fear  him. 

''  There  is  my  permit,"  she  said,  extending  it.  "  I 
come  to  see  Mr.  Ellery." 

She  saw  Frank  flush  with  gratitude,  but  he  spoke. 
The  drunken  women  had  slunk  away.  "  Alice,"  he  said, 
"  this  is  no  place  for  you." 

Xot  even  that  place  could  smirch  her,  and  as  she 
turned  and  answered  Frank  felt  it.  "  I  must  see 
Dickie,"  she  replied. 

Frank  said  no  more,  but  turned  to  Brush,  laying  a 
hand  on  his  wrist.  "  If  I  learn,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice, 
"  that  you  are  not  perfectly  respectful  to  this  lady,  you 
shall  be  punished." 

Brush  snatched  his  hand  away.  "  Not  you  will  touch 
me!  "  he  cried. 

''  There  are  those  who  will,"  returned  Frank.  Brush, 
at  the  threat,  remembered  the  lean  ropemaker  who  once 
had  put  him  in  fear.  Frank  turned  to  Alice. 

"  With  your  permission,  I  will  wait  outside,"  he  said, 
"  for  news  of  Dickie." 

He  passed  out  of  the  yard,  and  Alice  went  with  Brush 
into  the  jail.  Anthony,  with  difficulty  assuming  enough 
dignity  for  the  occasion,  waited  at  the  jail  door.  An- 
thony still  had  vanity  left;  he  knew  that  the  women,  who 
had  reassembled,  were  mocking  him,  and  the  regulars 


366  The  Colonials 

were  laughing  at  the  volunteer.  It  was  a  long  half 
hour  before  Alice  appeared. 

But  Frank's  half  hour  was  longer  as  he  waited,  almost 
savagely,  for  her  return.  The  beauty  of  her  face  and 
form,  her  simplicity  and  sweetness,  were  more  to  him 
now  than  ever.  Had  she  resented  his  interference? 
Was  she  angry  that  he  had  spoken  to  her?  She  had 
been  gracious;  but  so  she  would  be  to  any  one — even 
to  Sotheran.  This  life  was  torture  to  him  sometimes. 
He  ground  his  teeth.  It  was  torture  now.  She  was 
long  in  coming. 

But  she  came,  pure  and  unruffled.  He  stepped  to 
her.  '"  You  will  let  me  speak  to  you  a  moment,  Alice?  " 

He  did  not  know  that  her  experience  had  left  her 
weak.  Her  "  Certainly  "  seemed  cold. 

"  The  jailer  was  polite  to  you?  "  he  asked. 

"  In  his  fashion,"  she  replied.  "  He  thought  I  would 
enjoy  hearing — who  are  those  Boston  prisoners,"  she 
asked,  "  whom  he  boasts  of  oppressing?  " 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  Whig  party,"  he  answered. 

"  Of  what  are  they  convicted?  " 

"  They  have  not  been  convicted,  or  even  tried." 

"No?"  she  asked  in  surprise.  "Then  of  what  are 
they  accused?  " 

"  Xo  one  knows,"  Frank  answered. 

"It  is  inconceivable!"  she  cried.  "It  is  against 
justice!  " 

"  It  is  nevertheless  true,"  he  replied.  He  saw  that 
she  was  indignant,  but  the  subject  was  profitless,  and  he 
turned  it. 

"But  Dickie?"  he  asked.  "Is  he  well?  Is  he 
cheerful?  " 

"  He  is  growing  thin;  but  he  is  " — she  paused  for  the 
word — "  resigned." 

"  Is  he  well  treated?  " 


Plot  and  Counterplot  367 

"  His  room  is  small  and  close." 

She  saw,  as  well  as  he,  how  short  their  sentences 
were,  and  how  formal  was  their  talk.  Frank  was  look- 
ing in  her  face;  she  met  his  eyes  as  best  she  could.  In 
his  voice  she  heard  the  echo  of  her  own  constraint,  and 
she  tried  to  speak  in  friendlier  fashion. 

"  But  it  is  on  the  harbour  side  of  the  jail,  and  he 
sometimes  gets  the  breeze.  Dickie  was  very  glad  to 
see  me;  I  was  his  first  visitor." 

"  We  others,"  put  in  Anthony  in  self-defence,  "  have 
not  been  permitted  to  see  him." 

Frank  turned  to  him.    "  And  when  is  the  trial?  " 

"  In  two  days,"  said  Anthony. 

"  I  am  deeply  obliged  to  you,"  said  Frank  abruptly. 
He  bowed  to  Anthony,  then  to  Alice,  and  went  away. 
She  did  not  look  after  him,  but  his  picture  was  in  her 
mind.  Frank  seemed  older,  sterner,  and  still  more  self- 
contained. 

And  he,  as  he  went,  tried  not  to  think  of  her  at  all. 
He  was  schooling  himself  to  his  tasks;  he  desired  not 
to  let  another  thought  come  between  him  and  his  duties. 
But  love  laughs  even  at  locked  hearts;  he  can  stir  up 
pain  there;  he  can  rouse  memories  and  keep  them  alive. 
Frank  heard  Alice's  voice  in  his  ears  for  the  rest  of  the 
day. 

He  went  directly  to  Nick's  shop.  Pete  was  there, 
and  met  him  with  the  humble  request  of  the  men  of 
his  trade  to  do  anything — anything!  for  Master  Dickie. 

"  And  I  saw  old  Nichols,"  he  said,  "  who  was  jailer 
until  two  years  ago.  He  says,  sir,  that  the  gratings  to 
the  windows,  at  least  to  the  seaward  side  of  the  jail, 
can  be  torn  off  by  a  strong  man.  They  have  not  been 
replaced  for  a  dozen  years,  and  the  salt-water  breeze 
has  rusted  the  clamps.  If  Master  Dickie,  sir " 

"No,  no,"  said  Frank.     "There  is  no  hope  in  that; 


368  '      The  Colonials 

nor  in  smuggling  him  out;  Brush  knows  him  too  well. 
Now,  listen — "  and  he  gave  directions.  Dickie  could 
be  liberated  only  on  his  way  to  trial.  The  guard  would 
be  small;  a  score  of  ropemakers  would  be  enough; 
Frank  named  them.  Each  man  was  assigned  his  station, 
each  his  special  work.  Pete  repeated  the  directions. 
Frank  himself  would  give  the  signal. 

"  Remember,"  he  said  as  he  went  away;  "  in  two 
days!" 

Two  days  seemed  long.  But  a  shorter  time  seemed 
longer  to  Captain  Sotheran  as,  clutching  a  letter,  all 
pain,  chagrin,  disgrace  forgotten,  he  was  crying  at  that 
moment  in  exultation : 

"  Ellery,  now  I  have  you!  To-morrow  you  are 
mine! " 


CHAPTER  IV 

A    SPIDER   WEB 

Roger  sat  cleaning  Sotheran's  unused  brasses  for  the 
tenth  time,  and  humming  to  himself.  His  master  lay 
in  the  second  room  beyond;  his  ears  were  quick,  and  his 
temper  doubly  uncertain  from  his  confinement,  yet  the 
boy  lingered  over  one  verse  of  the  newest  song,  long- 
ing to  sing  it.  Its  rough  and  true  compliment  to  the 
rebels — forced,  as  it  were,  from  the  camp  poet — pleased 
the  boy.  Perhaps  the  captain  was  asleep;  he  would 
risk  it,  and  began  to  sing  in  a  low  tone.  The  meaning 
of  the  words,  the  swing  of  the  air,  carried  him  crescendo 
to  a  jubilant  shout. 

"  There's  some  in  Boston  pleased  to  say, 
As  we  the  field  were  taking, 
\Ve  went  to  kill  their  countrymen 
While  they  their  hay  were  making. 
But  such  stout  Whigs  I  never  saw  ; 
To  hang  them  all  I'd  rather, 
For  making  hay  with  musket  balls, 
And  buckshot  mixed  together." 

He  sang  it  to  the  end,  and  then,  realising  the  force 
that  he  had  put  into  it,  clapped  his  hand  to  his  mouth. 
But  his  sparkling  eyes  said  that  he  did  not  care;  he  had 
sung  it. 

"  Roger!  "  thundered  from  the  captain's  room. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  boy,  hastening  thither. 
"  You  called,  sir?  " 


370  The  Colonials 

But  not  anger  met  him.  The  captain's  face  was 
flushed  as  he  lay  on  his  couch,  and  his  eye  was  sharp, 
yet  his  mouth  had  a  smile. 

"  Fetch  me  your  uncle,"  he  ordered.    "  Go!  " 

Left  alone  in  his  apartment,  Sotheran's  smile  became 
a  laugh  of  joy.  He  unfolded  his  letter  and  read  it 
again.  Ah,  precious  document!  Golden  words,  writ 
with  a  jewelled  pen! 

The  letter  began  abruptly:  "I  hope  this  will  reach 
you;  three  attempts  I  have  made  without  success;  in 
the  last  the  man  was  discovered  in  effecting  his  escape; 
but  fortunately  my  letter  was  sewed  in  his  waistband. 
He  was  confined  a  few  days,  during  which  you  may 
guess  my  feelings;  but  a  little  art  and  a  little  cash  set- 
tled the  matter.  This  time  I  write  by  a  sure  convey- 
ance— so  sure,  and  with  such  little  time  to  prepare,  that 
I  will  not  use  the  cipher. 

"  Now  to  come  home.  On  the  thirteenth  of  June 
Warren  (whose  fate  has  made  no  such  despair  here  as 
I  expected)  called  hurriedly  together  the  Committee  of 
Safety,  and  showed  us  a  letter.  Laugh,  for  here  is  your 
desire.  The  letter  was  from  Ellery;  the  doctor  showed 
it  to  us  merely,  then  destroyed  it,  but  I  memorised  the 
words :  '  I  have  intelligence  that  the  governor  means  to 
seize  and  fortify  Dorchester  Heights  on  the  night  of 
Sunday,  the  eighteenth.'  'Twas  signed  with  Ellery's 
name,  full  credence  was  given  it,  and  means  were  at 
once  taken  to  fortify  Charlestown,  with  what  result  you 
know.  I  wrote  to  warn  you,  and  expected  you  had  re- 
ceived the  letter,  till  I  heard  too  late  that  the  man  was 
shot  in  passing  the  lines — these  Yankee  sentries  are 
devilish  sharp — and  buried  where  he  fell. 

"  I  foresee  Ellery's  fate,  and  envy  him  not.  Wash- 
ington and  Lee  are  expected  daily,  and  the  army  is 
confident.  I  own  I  dislike  the  outlook.  The  colonies 


Plot  and  Counterplot  371 

are  in  high  spirit,  Congress  is  firm,  and  recruits  are 
pouring  in.  Is  there  to  be  no  accommodation  of  this 
dispute? — Your  Friend." 

There  was  no  other  signature.  Sotheran  held  the 
letter  aloft.  "My  friend!"  he  cried.  "Truly  my 
friend!"  And  he  laughed  the  harsh  laugh  of  malice 
satisfied.  Reward  for  the  waiting  and  the  planning, 
payment  in  full  for  skill  and  forethought,  were  to  be 
his.  . 

He  heard  a  step  on  the  stair,  and  hid  the  letter  under 
his  pillow. 

The  visitor  was  Tudor,  fresh  and  fair,  open  and 
bright.  Sotheran  welcomed  him  grimly — the  innocent 
fool!  As  Tudor  sat  and  gaily  dealt  out  news,  Sotheran 
received  his  confidences  and  marks  of  affection  with 
contempt.  Outwardly  he  smiled  and  said  little.  Tudor 
knew  it  was  his  way. 

The  visitor  had  all  the  gossip  of  the  town.  A  new 
general  had  yesterday  arrived  at  Cambridge,  and  was 
to-day  to  take  command  of  the  rebels.  Washington 
was  his  name,  known  personally  to  the  governor;  a 
frontier  soldier,  unskilled  in  managing  a*i  army.  But 
Tudor's  face  saddened  for  an  instant  as  he  thought  of 
the  opposing  forces. 

"To  be  fighting  our  own  people;  terrible,  Henry,  is 
it  not?  "  he  asked. 

There  was  something  in  his  humanity  and  hopeful- 
ness that  might  almost  have  touched  so  cold  a  nature  as 
Sotheran's.  But  the  older  man,  indifferently  listening, 
nodded  merely. 

"  But,"  said  Tudor  brightly,  "  let  us  be  cheerful.  You 
seem  much  better,  Henry.  Yet  it  must  be  irksome  to 
be  so  confined." 

Irksome?    My  God!    But  Ellery  should  know. 


372  The  Colonials 

"  Though  they  say  the  wounded  prisoners  in  the  jail 
are  dying  fast  for  want  of  fresh  provision." 

Another  prisoner,  unwounded,  would  last  longer. 

"  Poor  devils,"  sighed  Tudor. 

"Devil!  devil!  devil!"  repeated  Sotheran  under  his 
breath.  One  devil  should  taste  hell  on  earth. 

"Heighho!"  Tudor  yawned.  "Luckless  fellows! 
And  yet,"  he  said,  suddenly  erect  as  the  remembrance 
struck  him,  "  did  you  know  that  the  man  Brush  is 
deputy  marshal,  with  oversight  of  the  jail?" 

"  I  know,"  said  Sotheran;  glad  he  was. 

"  To  allow  Brush,"  went  on  Tudor,  his  expressive 
features  changing  with  his  indignation,  "  to  have  such 
power  over  the  prisoners  seems  wrong.  The  general 
can  have  no  idea  of  the  fellow's  true  character.  Prison- 
ers are  sure  of  ill-treatment." 

"  Sure—  thank  God!  "  thought  Sotheran.  If  Ellery, 
in  Brush's  care,  became  not  broken  in  body  and  spirit, 
there  was  no  other  sure  thing.  Brush's  interest  was 
clear,  and  a  broad  hint,  a  dozen  guineas,  would  make 
the  matter  certain. 

"  And  these  others  arrested  on  mere  suspicion — the 
schoolmaster,  for  instance — used  to  finer  life,  must  find 
it  hard  to  lie  without  trial,  not  knowing  of  what  they 
are  accused."  Thus  Tudor,  sympathetically,  and  Soth- 
eran thought  with  delight: 

Hard,  ay,  hard  as  iron,  to  be  close  confined,  poorly 
fed,  day  by  day  seeing  no  friend,  and  never  brought  to 
trial.  Church's  letter  could  not  be  read  in  court,  and 
week  in,  week  out,  Ellery  would  languish,  until  the  re- 
bellion should  be  finished,  and  the  rebels,  as  in  '45, 
herded  for  execution. 

And  he  drew  the  picture  of  Frank  on  his  plank  bed, 
in  a  narrow  cell,  with  filthy  water  and  rotten  food, 
denied  air  and  exercise  and  all  communication.  Such 


Plot  and  Counterplot  373 

was  prison  life,  and  easily  made  worse.  And  when  at 
last  Ellery  should  come  to  trial,  secret  evidence  would 
be  against  him,  irrefutable;  and  a  disgraceful  death 
would  meet  him,  approved  by  all  his  former  friends. 
The  picture — nay,  the  vision — delighted  him.  A  hun- 
dred times  he  had  thought  of  it;  now  it  was  to  be  real. 
Alice  would  turn  with  terror  from  the  traitor,  and  El- 
lery's  name  would  be  black  forever. 

"  Yes,"  said  Tudor  soberly;  "  Alice  is  indignant  at  it." 

"  What?  "  demanded  Sotheran. 

"  She  was  at  the  jail  to-day,  you  know." 

"  No;  for  what  purpose?" 

"  To  visit  young  Ellery.  And  she  heard  of  those 
prisoners  who  are  held  there  upon  secret  accusation. 
Tis  for  them  she  is  indignant.  She  even  speaks  of 
visiting  them.  You  know  her  sympathies.  I  think  she 
means  to  go." 

"She  must  not!"  cried  Sotheran,  sitting  upright  on 
his  couch.  Visits  of  sympathy?  The  last  things  he 
.desired! 

"  Yes,"  said  Tudor,  nodding  gravely.  "  I  truly  think 
that  she  intends  it." 

"  Mr.  Brush,"  announced  Roger,  appearing  at  the 
door. 

"He  here?"  asked  Tudor,  rising  with  a  grimace. 
"  Then  I'll  be  gone.  I'm  sorry  for  you,  Henry." 

Gone  was  Sotheran's  exultant  certainty.  The  blatant 
Brush,  boasting  his  new  importance,  roused  the  cap- 
tain's disgust.  The  dry  glow  of  fever  came  again  into 
his  eyes  as  he  watched  his  uncouth  visitor. 

"I  screw  'em!"  cried  Brush,  striding  up  and  down 
to  display  his  gaudy  clothes.  "  I  work  'em!  They  play 
sick,  but  they  can't  come  it  over  me.  They  want  better 
food.  I  tell  'em  eat  the  nailheads  and  gnaw  the  planks. 


374  The  Colonials 

Ha! "  he  paused  and  leered  at  Sotheran  knowingly. 
"Profits!  Hey,  Captain,  profits — you  understand?" 

"  Silence,  fellow!  "  commanded  Sotheran. 

"Hey?"  grumbled  Brush,  in  umbrage.  "Did  you 
send  for  me  to  tell  me  that?  "  But  the  captain's  threat- 
ening look,  on  his  bed  though  Sotheran  was,  silenced 
Brush.  "  Well,  then?  "  he  muttered;  and  leaned  against 
the  mantel  with  folded  arms,  to  wait. 

And  Sotheran  tried  to  think,  exasperated  that  Alice 
herself  should  disturb  his  plans.  Love,  such  as  he  knew, 
contained  no  respect  for  its  object.  Desiring  but  pos- 
session, it  was  inspired  by  physical  beauty  alone,  and 
wished  therewith  neither  heart  nor  mind.  He  saw  that 
her  humanity  might  offer  Frank — held  "  upon  secret 
accusation  " — sympathy  and  consolation,  and  he  felt 
both  angry  and  afraid.  From  pity  to  love!  He  knew 
that  women  sometimes  took  the  path. 

Yet  he  saw  no  other  way,  and  took  the  chance.  El' 
lery  had  been  too  long  at  large.  Sotheran  hesitated, 
but  finally  spoke: 

"  If  I  send  you  a  prisoner,  how  will  you  treat  him?  " 

"  You  send?  "  queried  Brush. 

"  If  one  comes,  then — one  we  both  dislike " 

"  Ellery? "  interrupted  Brush,  leaping  to  the  con- 
clusion. "  Ha!  you  mean  Ellery,  Captain?  " 

The  captain  nodded.    "  What  will  you  do  with  him?  " 

Brush's  blotched  face  grew  purple  with  delight.  "  Let 
me  but  put  my  hands  on  him!  "  he  cried.  "  Shackled  in 
the  small  cell,  where  he  can't  lie  with  comfort — no  bed- 
ding, a  cup  of  water  in  a  day — oh,  Captain,  let  me  have 
him!" 

And  he  stretched  his  huge  hands,  with  their  thick 
fingers  crooked,  toward  the  captain,  as  if  that  moment 
to  receive  his  victim.  His  bleared  eyes  glowed:  his 
teeth,  tobacco  stained,  showed  between  his  heavy  lips. 


Plot  and  Counterplot  375 

In  new  summer  clothes,  spread  with  cheap  silver  lace, 
yet  already  dirty,  but  for  his  earnestness  he  would  have 
been  laughable.  The  coat  was  large,  even  for  his  burly 
figure;  the  cuffs  came  down  to  the  red  knuckles,  and 
the  skirts  of  the  coat  fell  below  the  knees.  Huge  paste 
buckles  shone  on  his  shoes,  and  soiled  silk  stockings, 
with  a  mussed  neckcloth,  completed  the  costume.  His 
large  cocked  hat,  laced  like  his  coat,  fell  to  the  floor  as 
he  stretched  out  his  hands.  But  the  energy  of  his 
gesture  robbed  the  gross  and  tawdry  figure  of  absurdity. 
Intenseness  shone  on  his  hot  face  and  trembled  in  his 
limbs  as  he  repeated: 

"Let  me  have  him!" 

"Why  should  you  want  him?"  asked  the  captain 
quietly. 

Brush  cursed.  "  The  damned  whelp,  I've  always 
hated  him!  He's  scorned  me  since  a  boy.  This  very 
day  he  threatened  me.  Give  me  the  chance — I'll  bring 
him  down!  " 

"  And  his  uncle  will  be  obliged  to  you,"  suggested  the 
captain. 

"  Ay,  Tom  will,"  said  Brush. 

"  Roger  comes  into  the  estate." 

Brush  grinned. 

"  And  if  I  give  you  this,"  began  Sotheran,  drawing 
out  his  purse. 

"  No!  "  cried  the  Tory.  "  Gad,  I'm  flush!  I  want  no 
guineas  from  you,  Captain.  But  put  him  in  my  hands, 
let  me  play  with  him,  and  I'll  not  forget  the  favour. 
And  so  old  Tom " 

"  Quiet,"  said  the  captain,  pointing  toward  the  other 
room. 

"  Nay,  the  lad  is  singing."  Brush  laughed  loudly. 
"  And  so  old  Tom  Ellery  plays  into  your  hands  and 


376  The  Colonials 

mine;  for  he  can't  keep  what  he  wins.  That's  right; 
use  his  handwriting,  Captain,  and  the  profit's  ours." 

His  handwriting?  The  captain  nearly  asked  the  ques- 
tion. "  You've  known  him  long?  "  he  asked  instead. 

"  Long?  Ay;  and  yet  it  was  only  accident  that  I  dis- 
covered this  trick  of  his.  Something  went  wrong  about 
a  note;  people  came  asking  troublesome  questions;  I 
guessed  the  truth,  and  saved  Tom  for  more  mischief. 
He  was  willing  to  leave  New  York  for  Boston.  I'll 
wager  that  when  the  books  are  shown  his  nephews  will 
get  small  part  of  their  own  property." 

"  So?"  asked  the  captain. 

"Surely!"  averred  Brush.  "He  would  cozen  the 
skin  from  a  cat,  and  produce  her  written  consent  to  the 
bargain.  And  if  by  this  time  he's  not  thorough  master 
of  his  nephew's  handwriting,  never  trust  old  Tom.  But 
how'd  you  learn  his  cleverness?" 

Sotheran  merely  smiled. 

"  Well  " — and  Brush  responded  with  a  grosser  imita- 
tion— "  never  mind.  But  what's  the  game — a  letter  to 
the  enemy?  "' 

"  Mr.  Brush!  "  warned  the  captain. 

".Well,"  said  Brush  hastily,  "it's  simplest;  that's  all. 
His  own  sweetheart  would  not  doubt  the  writing;  and  if 
you  yourself  have  an  eye  that  way " 

"Fellow!" 

"  I'm  gone — I'm  gone,"  protested  Brush,  seizing  his 
hat.  "Not  another  word,  Captain.  Take  your  time; 
but  when  you  send  him — ah!  " — and  with  a  gesture  that 
meant  more  than  words,  the  new  jailer  departed. 

When  he  was  gone,  the  captain  laughed  aloud. 

A  plan  was  made  for  him,  simple  and — if  Brush 
told  the  truth — perfect  in  its  results.  He  paused  but 
a  moment  to  consider.  To  falsify  the  letter  would  be  a 
military  offence;  to  forge  a  new  one  almost  a  capital 


Plot  and  Counterplot  377 

crime.  And  yet,  to  have  evidence  which  could  be  pro- 
duced in  court,  which  would  brand  Ellery  before  aii 
people  as  spy  and  traitor!  The  temptation  was  strong. 
Brush  hated,  old  Ellery  was  secret;  and  besides,  the 
forgeries,  if  unsatisfactory,  need  not  be  used. 

"Roger!''  cried  Sotheran  again.  "Fetch  me  Mr.- 
Thomas  Ellery." 

Then  followed,  when  Mr.  Ellery  hastened  upon  the 
summons,  a  pleasurable  interview — to  the  captain.  To 
probe  the  trustee  as  he  writhed  and  prevaricated,  to 
stupefy  him  with  uncanny  knowledge,  and  then  to  dazzle 
with  the  prospect  of  success,  was  easy  and  enjoyable. 
The  old  grub-worm  gave  up  his  secrets  as  if  they  were 
his  life,  and,  chattering  with  fear,  heard  his  plans  dis- 
closed. He  wrung  his  hands,  he  whimpered,  but  he 
promised  obedience;  for  Dickie's  birthday,  as  the  cap- 
tain reminded,  was  not  far  away.  Yes,  Mr.  Ellery 
would  do  as  he  was  told.  He  listened  to  directions, 
took  the  papers  that  the  captain  gave  him,  and  slunk 
away. 

The  captain  laughed  again.  He  felt  pride  in  his  man- 
agement of  men,  and  in  his  subtlety.  What  fool  had 
said  that  too  great  cleverness  betrays  itself? 

That  night,  while  the  captain  slept  at  ease,  Thomas 
Ellery  laboured  until  dawn.  With  four  candles  to  give 
light,  again  and  again  he  followed  copy.  Pausing  to 
shiver  that  so  much  was  known,  a  look  at  the  wall  be- 
yond which  his  nephew  lay  would  reanimate  him, 
through  hate,  with  courage,  and  he  would  fall  to  work 
again.  Mumbling  dry  lips,  straining  his  hot  and  smart- 
ing eyes,  he  persevered  till  he  was  satisfied;  then  grinned 
and  grinned  on  his  sleepless  couch  until  it  was  time  to 
rise. 

And  a  little  later  the  captain  smiled  as  he  read  the 
papers,  while  Ellery  stood  for  his  approval.  The  doc- 


378  The  Colonials 

tor's  letter  with  a  passage  altered — perfect  as  the  origi- 
nal! And  Frank's  note  to  Warren  seemed  convincing, 
creased  and  rubbed  as  if  it  had  passed  through  many 
hands. 

"  You  are  sure  this  is  the  paper  he  uses,  and  the 
wax?" 

"  Yes." 

"  And  in  this  " — Sotheran  read  an  humble  note  in 
curious  phraseology,  addressed  to  General  Gage — "  you 
advise  the  hour  in  which  to  find  him  at  home?  " 
.     "  Yes;  this  night  at  ten." 

The  captain  curled  a  satisfied  lip.  "  My  thanks,"  he 
drawled. 

Oh,  day  of  days!  Gay  was  the  captain  when  his  next 
visitors  came.  Wine  ran  through  his  arteries — wine  of 
joy,  wine  of  triumph.  The  unsuspecting  general  had 
accepted  Sotheran's  recommendation  of  Harriman  as 
a  clever  man  to  make  the  arrest.  All  was  in  Harriman's 
hands;  he  had  been  coached;  here  at  last  was  certainty. 

And  that  evening  the  captain  sat  at  his  window, 
thrilled  with  anticipation.  The  moon  lighted  the  nar- 
row street  from  side  to  side;  of  the  coming  spectacle 
Sotheran  would  not  miss  one  detail.  Ellery  bound  and 
guarded,  on  his  way  to  jail — oh,  this  would  cure  pain, 
would  wipe  out  the  memory  of  defeat,  would  sting  his 
rival  to  despair! 

He  raised  the  window,  and  looked  out  along  the 
street,  in  the  direction  from  which  they  would  come. 
A  clock  struck  in  the  nearby  steeple.  Ten  o'clock — 
soon  now,  soon! 

No  footsteps  made  sounds  in  the  little  lonely  street; 
nothing  disturbed  its  quiet.  Impatience  began  to  prick 
the  captain  as  still  the  minutes  passed.  Hurry,  Harri- 
man, hurry!  What?  Listen!  Ah,  yes,  yes! 

He  heard  the  tramp  of  heavily-shod  feet  in  unison 


Plot  and  Counterplot  379 

upon  the  cobbles.  There  was  the  jingle  of  an  officer's 
sword-strap.  He  leaned  far  out,  and  looked.  A  small 
and  compact  body  of  men  was  coming;  at  their  side  a 
single  figure,  the  moonlight  glinting  on  his  sword. 
Harriman  and  his  men  it  was;  nearer  and  nearer  they 
came.  Sotheran's  eyes  sought  among  the  squad  of 
soldiers.  There  were  a  dozen  military  caps,  and — yes, 
by  heaven! — one  bare  head.  Caught! 

He  waited  until  they  should  come  nearer.  "  Ellery," 
he  whispered,  "  this  is  for  the  log  cabin,  for  the  coffee- 
house, for  that  letter  lost — and  for  Alice  Tudor!  "  His 
eyes  strained  to  perceive  the  features  of  the  man  he 
hated. 

"  Ho  there!  "  he  cried.    "  Who  goes?  " 

"Halt!"  responded  Harriman.  Just  below  the  win- 
dow the  squad  halted,  a  tall  figure  in  the  midst. 
"  Henry,  is  it  you?  " 

"  Whom  have  you  there?  " 

"  Our  friend  Ellery." 

"  Ellery?  "  cried  Sotheran,  as  in  surprise.  "  Ellery — 
not  my  dear  friend;  and  with  arms  bound?  Look  up, 
Ellery!  Say  it  is  not  you!  " 

Frank  looked  up,  and  the  light  fell  on  his  face. 
Sotheran  saw  the  broad  forehead,  the  quiet  eyes,  the 
steady  mouth.  Could  the  fellow  never  be  brought  out 
of  his  calm? 

"  Ellery,"  he  said  caressingly,  "  this  is  most  unfor- 
tunate. Accept  my  sympathies.  What  I  can  do  for  you 
I  promise  you  I  will.  My  poor,  poor  fellow!  " 

They  saw  each  other  perfectly,  those  two  men  of 
power.  Sotheran  sneered;  Frank,  unmoved,  looked  the 
captain  in  the  face.  He  recognised  the  workings  of  a 
perfect  plan,  and  knew  his  own  vigilance  outwitted.  Yet 
he  would  not  flinch. 


380  The  Colonials 

Sotheran  waved  his  hand.  "  Good  night,"  he  said. 
"  A  pleasant  sleep." 

"  Is  that  all?  "  asked  Harriman. 

"  I  must  retire  and  weep,"  responded  Sotheran. 
"  This  is  a  sad  sight.  I  shall  never  forget  it.  Good 
night,  Friend  Ellery." 

"  Forward!  "  cried  Harriman. 

The  men  started  on,  and  Frank,  going,  took  his  un- 
wavering glance  from  Sotheran's  elated  face.  The  cap- 
tain watched  them  till  they  turned  the  corner,  drew  in 
his  head,  and  softly  closed  the  window. 

"  I  must  weep,"  he  repeated. 

Roger,  cowering  in  his  little  room,  heard  paeans  of 
sardonic  laughter. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   WAY    OUT 

Frank  sat  on  the  floor  of  his  cell.  He  could  not 
lie,  he  could  not  stand;  he  could  only  sit,  hour  after 
hour,  leaning  against  the  wall,  with  his  ankles  shackled 
to  a  ring  in  the  floor.  The  plank  bed  in  the  corner  was 
a  mockery;  the  crust  of  bread  was  out  of  reach.  The 
late  June  twilight  was  fading,  and  the  second  prison 
night  was  coming  on. 

He  did  not  complain  of  his  discomforts  or  fear  their 
continuance.  He  was  thinking;  he  had  been  thinking 
for  hours  upon  the  answer  to  one  question:  Who  wrote 
that  letter? 

In  the  morning,  handcuffed  heavily  and  strongly 
guarded,  Brush  in  attendance,  he  had  been  marched  to 
the  Province  House.  In  the  streets  he  had  seen  a  hun- 
dred curious  faces  of  Tory  acquaintances  and  of  sym- 
pathetic Whigs.  Along  by  the  Ellery  house,  scattered 
in  twos  and  threes,  had  been  ropemakers  with  their 
cudgels.  And  this  had  touched  him  that,  learning  of 
his  fate,  almost  every  man  of  his  trade  was  there,  ready 
to  die  for  him.  Pete  had  signalled:  "  Shall  we  attack?  " 
But  Brush  had  been  so  much  afraid  of  such  an  attempt, 
that  the  guards  had  their  bayonets  fixed  and  muskets 
loaded.  Frank  shook  his  head. 

Yet  who  wrote  that  letter? 

Standing  before  the  four  generals,  he  had  demanded 


382  The  Colonials 

to  know  the  accusation  against  him.  Burgoyne,  the 
literary,  had  urged  Gage  to  show  him  the  evidence. 

'  Tis  but  fair,"  he  said;  "  and  the  simplest.  We  shall 
see  how  he  will  give  way  at  the  proof  of  his  guilt."  So 
Frank,  still  handcuffed,  had  been  allowed  to  look  at  a 
letter  as  it  lay  upon  the  table  before  his  examiners. 

"  Did  you  write  it?  "  was  asked  him. 

They  saw  his  lips  shut  tight  and  his  eyes  narrow  as 
he  studied  the  letter.  But  he  did  not  speak  at  once. 

"  Come,  confess,"  said  Burgoyne.  "  Twill  save  us 
and  you  the  trouble  of  a  trial.  We  have  a  witness  to 
swear  to  your  paper,  ink,  and  handwriting." 

That  would  be  easy  of  proof,  Frank  saw.  There  were 
the  same  paper,  the  same  seal,  the  same  purple  ink  he 
habitually  used;  that  was  his  very  handwriting.  And 
the  words,  as  nearly  as  he  recollected,  were  the  same. 
All  was  the  same,  save  for  one  detail: 

There  was  no  postscript. 

"  I  did  not  write  this  note,"  said  Frank. 

They  could  not  induce  him  to  say  otherwise.  The 
generals  were  angry,  almost  threatening,  as  they  saw 
before  them  the  man  who  caused  their  troops  such 
losses. 

"Fellow!  fellow!"  cried  Burgoyne,  shaking  a  finger. 
"  Confess,  and  we  make  your  gallows  a  yard  lower." 

"  I  did  not  write  this,"  repeated  Frank. 

"  The  prisoner  is  remanded,"  said  Gage  finally.  "  His 
brother  will  not  be  examined  until  after  this  case  is 
formally  tried." 

Frank  had  listened  and  looked  no  more.  He  walked 
back  to  the  jail  in  a  brown  study,  and  now,  hours  later, 
still  was  asking  himself:  "  Who  wrote  that  note?  " 

It  was  not  conceivable  that  the  generals  would  stoop 
to  deceit.  Some  one  was  tricking  them.  Some  one  had 
seen  the  original  note :  some  person — since  the  note 


Plot  and  Counterplot  383 

had  not  come  into  British  hands — in  the  American 
camp,  either  before  or  after  Warren's  death.  That 
person  could  have  forged  a  copy,  and  sent  it  to  Gage. 
But  why  forge?  The  bare  information  would  have  been 
sufficient.  There  was  unnecessary  elaboration  in  a 
forgery.  Evidently,  for  the  informant  mere  imprison- 
ment was  not  enough.  Conviction  upon  absolute  evi- 
dence was  desired. 

And  imitating  the  note  would  scarcely  have  been  pos- 
sible without  either  the  note  itself  or  specimens  of  his 
handwriting.  Throwing  out  the  first  condition — for  the 
possession  of  the  original  would  not  necessitate  a 
forgery — there  stood  clear  two  facts :  some  one  knew 
the  words  of  the  note,  and  was  familiar  with  Frank's 
writing. 

The  cell  was  darkening,  and  the  place  was  hot.  Per- 
spiration stood  on  Frank's  face  from  the  close  at- 
mosphere. But  he  paid  no  heed  to  his  situation  or  his 
feelings,  as  he  thought  on. 

The  American  informant  would  not  have  forged  the 
note  unless  impelled  by  malice.  Who  in  the  rebel  camp 
had  malice  against  Frank?  But  in  Boston  there  were 
two  that  hated  him! 

A  chain  of  circumstances  suddenly  revealed  itself. 
Frank's  mind  leaped  from  fact  to  fact,  then  to  con- 
clusions. Sotheran  hated  him;  his  uncle  hated  him. 
His  uncle,  in  the  account  books,  had  specimens  of  his 
handwriting  in  plenty.  Who  supplied  the  words  of  the 
note?  Not  his  uncle.  Sotheran?  How,  then? 

Ah!  Roger  had  told  of  the  letters  that  came  to  the 
captain,  which  the  captain  took  to  the  general.  And 
Sotheran  was  bold  enough,  and  hated  enough,  to  dare 
to  deceive  his  superior.  So  much  was  clear.  Frank 
struck  his  hands  together  as  he  perceived. 

Two  questions,  then,   remained:  Who  supplied  the 


384  The  Colonials 

information,  and  who  was  the  forger?  Sotheran  could 
scarcely  forge.  But  skill  of  the  kind  could  be  easily 
bought,  and  his  uncle  would  supply  ink,  seal,  and  paper. 
And  the  informant?  With  whom  did  Sotheran  corre- 
spond? Frank  pressed  his  eyelids  tightly  shut,  the 
better  to  think. 

Some  one  in  Warren's  confidence,  to  whom  the  note 
had  either  been  shown,  or  who  found  it  among  his 
papers.  Yes,  some  one  in  Warren's  confidence.  Not 
clear,  not  clear!  Who  could  it  be?  Frank  drew  a  long 
breath.  He  would  yet  puzzle  it  out. 

But  through  the  door,  as  he  began  again  on  his 
problem,  he  heard  stumbling  footsteps  coming  up  the 
stairs,  and  voices  out  of  time  and  tune  roaring  a  song. 
Frank  heard  Brush's  voice  bellowing  above  the  others. 
The  singing  ended  abruptly  in  a  chorus  of  hiccups 
and  drunken  laughter,  and  then  shuffling  feet  came 
along  the  corridor.  There  was  rattling  of  keys  as  the 
jailers  made  sure  that  each  cell  was  fast  for  the  night. 
At  last  the  feet  stopped  outside  Frank's  door,  and  at 
the  threshold  in  the  dusk  he  saw  the  glow  of  yellow 
light. 

"  Go  ye  downstairs  now,"  Frank  heard  Brush  direct- 
ing. "  I  follow  presently.  First  I'll  just  handcuff  my 
dear  friend  inside,  and  have  some  sport  with  him." 

"  But  he's  safe,"  was  the  answer.    "  Come  along." 

"  He's  safe,"  laughed  Brush,  "  but  too  comfortable. 
He  might  sleep  if  I  didn't  take  good  care  of  him." 

Frank  compressed  his  lips,  but  the  jailers  laughed. 
"  Go  on  now,"  said  Brush.  "  Lock  all  downstairs,  and 
the  outer  door.  I'll  lock  the  yard  gate  when  I  come." 

Unsteady  feet  went  away  and  clattered  down  the 
stairs.  Frank  heard  keys  jingle  at  his  door,  and  Brush 
softly  cursing  as  he  lurched  against  it.  Fumbling  and 
muttering,  the  man  at  last  mastered  the  lock  and  swung 


Plot  and  Counterplot  385 

the  door  open.  He  reeled  into  the  cell  and  held  the 
light  to  survey  his  victim. 

"  Ha!  "  he  leered,  while  wax  dropped  from  the  candle, 
held  obliquely.  "  Not  so  drunk,  Ellery,  as  you  might 
think.  How  are  you — comfortable?" 

Frank  made  no  answer.  The  ungainly  fellow,  with 
his  bleared  eyes,  scarcely  human  in  his  sottishness, 
brought  him  for  the  first  time  a  sense  of  helplessness. 
The  tawdry  finery  and  the  blackguard  face  wrote 
"  Brute  "  at  large  upon  the  man.  And,  shackled  as 
he  was,  Frank  was  in  his  power. 

Brush  closed  the  door  and  set  the  candle  on  a  shelf. 
Then  he  seated  himself  on  the  bed,  holding  the  hand- 
cuffs and  the  keys.  He  struck  the  bed  with  his  hand. 

"  No  answer?  "  he  cried.  "  Whyn't  you  get  up  on 
the  bed?  Lie  down  and  enjoy  yourself,  instead  of  sit- 
ting there  against  the  wall.  All  day,  eh,  just  sitting 
there?  Tired,  hey?  " 

He  roared  with  laughter.  Out  of  his  bloodshot  eyes 
he  eyed  Frank  the  while,  for  a  sign  of  feeling;  and  find- 
ing none,  sought  again  to  reach  him. 

"  Pleasant  time  we  had  to-day,  eh,  at  the  Province 
House?  When  shall  we  go  again?  You're  in  no  hurry, 
I  hope.  With  quarters  like  to  yours,  an  airy  view,  and 
the  best  of  food — eh,  eh,  Ellery,  you're  willing  to  stay 
a  while,  aren't  you?  " 

He  laughed  again;  but  from  Frank  the  feeling  of 
helplessness  passed,  and  he  doggedly  composed  him- 
self to  endure. 

"  Your  friends  send  love  and  presents,"  began  Brush 
again.  "  A  bo-kay  of  flowers  came  this  morning.  D'ye 
want  to  know  who  sent  them?  Captain  Sotheran.  They 
say  he's  much  distressed  at  your  bad  luck.  Ho,  ho! 
And  your  uncle,  young  man,  sent  a  prayer-book  for 


386  The  Colonials 

your  benefit.  He  feels  much  shame  at  such  a  scandal 
in  the  family." 

"Much  shame!"  thought  Frank.  "Who  let  the 
soldiers  so  silently  into  the  house,  and  led  them  up  the 
stairs  to  my  door?  Much  shame!  " 

"  And  your  brother,"  went  on  Brush,  "  bids  ye  wel- 
come to  your  new  quarters.  He's  here  on  this  floor  " 
— and  Brush  pointed  with  his  thumb — "  only  in  a  room 
a  little  larger.  Sorry  I  couldn't  accommodate  you  so 
well;  but  first  come,  first  served,  ye  know." 

"  Many  thanks,"  thought  Frank,  though  not  a  change 
came  over  his  face,  "  for  telling  where  Dickie  is.  On 
this  floor;  and  Alice  said  he  was  on  the  harbour  side. 
That  means  but  one  thing — the  cell  at  the  end  of  the 
corridor.  Many  thanks,  Mr.  Brush;  come  now  within 
my  reach! " 

But  Brush  grew  irritated  at  Frank's  impassivity.  His 
cruelty  increased  by  the  brandy  he  had  drunk,  he  wished 
to  see  the  prisoner  shrink  before  him.  Irony  failing, 
he  changed  to  facts. 

"  We're  all  so  glad  to  have  you  here,"  he  said — 
"  Sotheran,  old  Tom,  and  me.  Proud  ye've  been,  El- 
lery.  Now  ye're  as  good  as  dead.  Who  done  it — ha? 
Who  done  it?  Why,  we  three!  " 

Frank  showed  no  interest,  but  he  watched  the  other's 
increasing  vexation.  Brush  was  slowly  growing  angrier. 
Frank's  craft  did  not  desert  him,  and  his  eyes  and  lips 
sneered. 

"  Ye  don't  believe  it?  "  cried  Brush,  more  angry  still. 
"  It's  so,  ye  fool.  Tom  with  his  clever  pen  has  written 
ye  into  jail.  Ha — have  I  touched  ye — have  I?" 

For  Frank  had  started.  Brush  looked  eagerly  for 
a  sign  of  his  emotion,  whether  rage,  chagrin,  or  despair, 
and  saw  instead  a  gleam  of  satisfaction.  He  realised 
that  he  had  betrayed  a  secret,  and  broke  into  fury. 


Plot  and  Counterplot  387 

He  stormed  and  threatened,  cursed  and  jeered.  He 
tried  every  means  to  bring  Frank  from  himself.  He 
reminded  him  of  his  situation,  kicked  the  crust  of  bread 
within  his  reach,  gloated  over  the  coming  sentence  and 
the  ignominious  death,  and  foretold  the  sure  downfall 
of  the  American  cause.  And  Frank's  friends  should 
curse  him,  and  his  sweetheart  marry  Sotheran.  More 
and  more  threats  he  dragged  from  his  small  imagina- 
tion, and  constantly  looked  to  see  Frank's  composure 
break  down. 

It  was  in  vain.  Brush  brought  no  glance  of  interest 
to  Frank's  eyes,  no  fear  into  his  face.  Instead,  once 
more  there  was  an  unmistakable  curling  of  the  lip. 
Rage  seized  the  jailer  at  the  young  man's  self-control; 
he  rose  from  his  seat,  came  closer,  and  bent  his  face 
down  toward  Frank's. 

"  Sneer  at  me,  do  ye?"  he  roared.  "  Sneer  again!  " 
He  struck  the  keys  and  handcuffs  together.  "  I'll  teach 
ye!  I'll  break  ye!  Give  me  your  hands  here;  I'll  chain 
ye  up!  I'll  load  ye  down."  He  rattled  the  keys  again, 
and  stepped  so  close  that  he  bestrode  the  young  man's 
shackled  legs.  "  Reach  your  arms  here!  " 

His  eyes  were  red  with  rage,  his  limbs  were  quiver- 
ing. Frank  felt  his  foul  breath  as  Brush  thrust  his  face 
nearer.  The  man  raised  the  heavy  keys  and  struck 
Frank  on  the  shoulder.  "Give  me  your  wrists!"  he 
roared. 

Frank  moved  his  knees  as  far  as  they  could  go — a 
single  foot — thrusting  them  against  Brush's  leg.  Brush, 
overbalanced,  toppled  into  the  trap.  Two  waiting  arms 
enfolded  him,  and  crushed  him  close.  He  struggled, 
the  arms  were  steel;  he  writhed,  but  was  pinioned  fast. 
Fear  came  over  him,  and  he  opened  his  mouth  to  shout. 
Then  a  hand  caught  his  throat;  one  smothered  cry,  and 
his  breath  was  stopped. 


388  The  Colonials 

He  could  kick,  but  to  no  purpose.  Let  him  thunder 
on  the  floor  with  his  heels — noises  were  nothing  in  that 
place.  His  arms  were  powerless,  his  neck  was  almost 
broken.  He  looked  with  starting  eyes  into  Frank's 
smiling  face. 

"  Take  it  easily,  Mr.  Brush,"  said  Frank. 

"An  easy  death!  "  was  all  Brush  could  think.  Hor- 
ror thickened  the  blood  in  his  body;  his  chest  was  burst- 
ing, and  bells  were  clanging  in  his  ears.  He  was  help- 
less as  a  child,  throttled  like  a  dog,  and  Frank  was  now 
looking  down  enquiringly,  carefully,  into  his  face.  He 
made  a  last  vain  effort  for  release,  then  fainted  from 

fright. 

*****  *  * 

Frank  and  Dickie  stood  free  in  the  jailyard.  Old 
Nichols  had  been  right — the  clamps  of  the  bars  were 
rusted  through.  The  rope  of  the  bedclothes  showed 
the  method  of  escape.  Yet  the  rear  wall  of  the  yard 
was  formed  by  the  back  of  a  warehouse;  the  side  walls 
could  be  seen  from  the  gate.  Frank  settled  himself  in 
Brush's  coat  until,  thickset  and  bowlegged,  he  seemed 
its  very  owner.  He  jingled  the  keys,  then  picked  up 
from  the  ground  an  empty  bottle. 

"Thank  God,  the  moon  is  hid!"  he  said.  "Yet  we 
can  see.  Ready?  Stagger,  Dickie." 

They  staggered,  they  lurched,  around  the  jail  to  its 
side.  A  few  steps,  and  Dickie  saw  the  gate  with  the 
sentinel.  He  felt  Frank's  elbow  steering  him  wide  of 
the  building.  There,  he  felt,  was  the  danger.  The  jail 
was  dark,  but  not  silent,  for  from  somewhere  came 
rough  singing  and  loud  laughter.  A  few  steps  more, 
and  from  the  corner  of  his  eye  Dickie  saw  the  light 
that  streamed  out  into  the  yard — the  jailers  had  not 
shut  the  door.  Involuntarily  he  stepped  faster. 

"  Slow!  "  cautioned  Frank.     "  Be  drunk,  Dickie!  " 


Plot  and  Counterplot  389 

Dickie  restrained  himself.  A  little  more,  and  they 
would  meet  the  sentry.  He  staggered  artistically,  his 
arms  loose,  his  head  low.  Not  twenty  feet  yet  to  pass? 

There  came  a  hail  from  behind:  "Hi,  Brush — 
Crean !  "  Dickie  looked.  The  under-jailer  was  coming 
to  intercept  them. 

"  Go  on,"  said  Frank  to  him  sternly.  "  Stand  at  the 
gate.  Don't  run  till  you  must.  Then  go  home,  and 
find  Ann." 

He  stopped.  Dickie  went  on.  "  But  if  I  desert 
Frank,"  he  thought,  "  may  I  be  struck  dead!  " 

He  reached  the  gate.  The  sentry,  halting,  held  his 
musket  across.  Dickie,  every  nerve  aquiver,  stopped, 
turned,  and  looked  back.  A  storm  of  commands  was 
issuing  from  Frank,  and  the  under  jailer,  dismayed,  had 
halted. 

"Go  back!"  roared  Frank.  "What  d'  I  tell  ye? 
Lock  that  door.  Lock  it,  I  said!  Lock  yourself 
inside!  " 

"  But  I  thought — "  began  the  man.  The  British  pris- 
oners were  crowding  to  the  door  to  listen. 

"  I'll  do  the  thinking,"  cried  his  false  superior.  "  Go, 
I  say!" 

Frank  reeled,  caught  himself,  and  threw  the  bottle. 
The  prisoners  at  the  door  disappeared  inwards ;  the 
under-jailer  dodged  as  the  bottle  whizzed  near  him.  It 
smashed  to  pieces,  and  its  force  conveyed  the  idea  of 
obedience  to  the  man's  mind.  He  turned  to  the  jail. 

Frank  stood  muttering  for  nearly  half  a  minute. 
Dickie  was  in  a  cold  sweat.  Why  did  he  not  come  ?  At 
last  his  brother  turned,  and  staggering  to  the  gates, 
began  laboriously  to  shut  them.  "  Here,  help  me,"  he 
said  to  his  brother. 

Dickie,  with  one  eye  on  the  sentry,  helped.  The 
gates  were  heavy,  and  wedged  back;  the  work  was  slow. 


390  The  Colonials 

The  jail  door  was  already  shut,  but  the  sergeant  had 
come  out  of  the  guard  house  and  was  watching. 

Frank,  as  if  in  anger,  never  ceased  muttering.  "  The 
blockhead — the  fool — the  drunken  ass.  Go  out!  "  he 
burst  forth  on  Dickie,  as  the  gates  were  nearly  shut. 
"  Out  with  ye  !  " 

He  pulled  the  gates  to ;  the  brothers  were  in  the  street 
with  the  sentry  and  sergeant.  Dickie  lurched  against 
the  gate  and  watched  his  brother  lock  it  with  his  largest 
key. 

"  You're  on  the  wrong  side,  Mr.  Brush,"  observed  the 
sergeant. 

"  Hie — right  side,"  replied  Frank,  busy  with  the  lock. 
He  drew  out  the  key,  and  turned.  Dickie  was  ready 
for  a  spring.  "  Right  side !  "  repeated  Frank  defiantly. 
"  Come !  "  he  said  to  Dickie. 

"  Where  d'ye  find  the  Volunteer  ?  "  asked  the  ser- 
geant. 

Dickie  stepped  a  little  nearer,  his  eye  on  the  man. 
How  could  Frank  explain  ?  But  the  sentry  had  his  own 
joke  to  try  upon  the  jailer.  He  brought  his  musket 
to  a  charge,  the  point  of  the  bayonet  within  six  inches 
of  Frank's  breast. 

"  The   countersign  !  "  he   demanded  grinning. 

Dickie  saw  the  grin,  and  stayed  his  leap. 

"Cou'shi?"  asked  Frank  contemptuously.  "Broken 
bottle,  ye  fool !  Got  t'  get  a  full  one.  Come ! "  He 
pushed  the  bayonet  aside  and  beckoned  Dickie. 

The  sentry  and  the  sergeant  laughed  as  the  brothers 
reeled  away. 


CHAPTER  VI 

RENDERING  ACCOUNT 

It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  the  slumbers  of  the 
wicked  are  alike.  The  healthy  sleep  of  Sotheran  was 
as  sound  as  a  child's,  and  the  natural  repose  of  Doctor 
Church  was  unvisited  by  dreams  of  anything  but  plea- 
sure. The  stertorous  slumber  of  Brush  was  habitually 
hard  and  long,  though  it  usually  left  its  victim  with  an 
aching  head.  But  the  sleep  of  Thomas  Ellery  commonly 
conformed  to  the  poetic  rule,  being  light  and  timorous, 
disturbed  by  visions  and  broken  by  long  periods  of 
wakefulness. 

Brush,  handcuffed,  shackled,  and  gagged,  did  not 
sleep  that  night.  Yet  for  the  first  time  in  years — and 
the  last — Mr.  Ellery  had  folded  his  hands  on  his  breast, 
and  dropped  peacefully  to  sleep.  The  reward  of  toil  was 
promised  him  at  last ;  all  of  the  family  property  was  to 
be  his.  His  nephews  were  presently  to  disappear  from 
the  scene,  and  without  even  the  long-dreaded  strain  of 
exhibiting  his  accounts  everything  was  to  come  into 
his  hands.  Then  he  would  sell  the  house,  realise  on  the 
wharf,  get  rid  of  the  walks,  and  put  the  money  out  at 
better  interest.  And  smiling  in  his  slumber,  even  his 
avarice  was  satisfied. 

The  smile  brought  grim  responses  to  two  stern  faces 
that  leaned  over  him,  and  presently  Mr.  Ellery's  dream 
began  to  change.  There  was  a  pressure  on  his  chest ; 
he  tried  to  throw  it  off.  It  increased,  and  his  breath 


392  The  Colonials 

came  harder.  Golden  visions  turned  to  nameless  fears; 
he  thought  that  a  form  sat  on  his  breast,  shadowy, 
dreadful,  overpoweringly  heavy.  He  gasped  and  strug- 
gled. Out  of  the  shadow  grew  the  two  faces,  fierce  and 
threatening,  of  his  nephews.  They  glared  on  him;  he 
groaned  and  writhed.  They  came  nearer;  he  cried  in 
a  choking  voice,  and  suddenly  opened  wide  his  eyes. 

There  was  a  light  in  the  room.  Two  forms  stood  by 
the  bed,  one  on  either  side  of  him ;  the  hand  of  one  was 
on  his  chest.  He  opened  his  mouth  to  scream,  but  his 
voice  died  in  his  throat.  More  terrible  in  their  quiet 
than  the  demon  faces  of  the  dream,  he  saw  his  nephews 
looking  at  him  fixedly. 

"  Don't  scream,"  said  Frank.  "  The  shutters  are 
tight ;  no  one  can  hear  from  outside.  Ann  is  awake, 
but  she  will  not  come." 

They  exchanged  glances  in  the  pause  that  followed. 
He  saw  Frank's  same,  unchanging  look  of  perfect 
understanding,  the  look  he  hated,  expressing  Frank's 
superiority,  even  as  a  boy.  And  turning  to  Dickie's 
countenance  of  gloomy  reproach,  he  found  there  too 
much  to  bear.  His  eyes  fell,  and  he  shuddered.  His 
nephews,  studying  their  betrayer,  saw  his  fear  and 
understood  it. 

"  We  will  not  hurt  you,"  said  Frank. 

He  breathed  freer.  But  why  had  they  come — and 
how? 

"  Uncle,"  said  Frank.  "  Thank  Mr.  Brush  for  our 
visit.  He  set  us  free,  yet  we  should  have  gone  directly 
to  Cambridge,  but  for  something  he  said.  Reach  the 
light  here,  Dickie.  I  wish  to  see  his  face." 

The  light  fell  clearly  on  Mr.  Ellery's  features.  The 
man  watched  his  nephew  anxiously.  What  had  Brush 
said? 


Plot  and  Counterplot  393 

"  He  said,"  continued  Frank,  "  that  you  are  excellent 
at  handwriting." 

"  Oh  !  "  groaned  Mr.  Ellery. 

Frank  smiled,  and  spoke  to  his  brother. 

"  I  have  guessed  many  things,  Dickie,  in  the  past  few 
years.  Nothing  is  certain ;  I  have  never  tried  to  dis- 
cover the  truth,  though  thanks  to  Mr.  Brush  I  shall 
try  to-night.  But  I  have  guessed  that  uncle  is  defraud- 
ing us,  that  he  has  falsified  the  accounts,  that  we  are  not 
poor,  as  he  says,  but  rich.  Does  that  interest  you?  It 
interests  uncle  as  well.  Look  at  him." 

Mr.  Ellery's  skin  was  grey  with  fear,  and  his  eyes 
were  wild.  Dickie  looked  once,  and  turned  away. 
Frank  gave  a  little  laugh. 

"  It  pains  you,  Dickie  ?  Think  of  the  years  of  pain  he 
has  given  me,  the  deceits  he  put  upon  you.  Think  of 
those,  Dickie  in  what  I  shall  do.  Now  I  will  tell  you 
something: 

"  Our  grandfather  built  this  house.  He  put  in  it  a 
secret  hiding  place.  Father  showed  it  to  me  before  he 
died.  Do  you  start,  uncle,  do  you  wonder  what  I 
know  ?  Then  watch." 

He  went  to  the  wall  near  the  fireplace,  on  the  side 
toward  the  window.  "  See  the  wainscoting,"  he  said  to 
Dickie.  "  'Twas  a  good  workman  made  this,  yet  he  was 
but  a  ship's  carpenter.  Did  you  ever  think  there  might 
be  a  secret  in  the  wall  ?  I  press — here.  Then  I  press 
again — there."  He  stood  with  both  hands  on  the  wall, 
and  looked  over  his  shoulders  at  the  two  behind  him. 

'Tis  complicated,  is  it  not?  Next  I  press  with  my 
knee  here — so!  "  He  stepped  aside.  "  Do  you  see?" 

A  cupboard  door  stood  ajar  in  the  wall,  Frank  opened 
it  wider.  Dickie,  starting  up,  seized  a  candle  and  sur- 
veyed the  space  within. 

•"  It  is  empty !  "  he  said. 


394  The  Colonials 

"  So  it  is,"  answered  Frank.    "  So  I  expected." 

He  turned  to  the  lean  form  on  the  bed.  "  See  his 
eyes,"  he  said  to  Dickie.  "  They  are  bright  with  hope. 
His  hands  are  opening  and  shutting.  His  breath  is  fast. 
Did  you  think,  uncle,  that  I  knew  no  more?  Hold  the 
light  a  little  nearer,  Dickie.  Now  look." 

He  reached  into  the  shallow  cupboard,  touched  a 
spring,  and  stepped  away  for  Dickie  to  see.  There  was 
the  sound  of  a  sliding  weight,  and  the  back  of  the  cup- 
board slipped  upward  into  the  wall.  A  deep  cavity  was 
revealed. 

"  Books  !  "  cried  Dickie.     "  Bags  !  " 

"  Look  at  him,  now,  Dickie,"  directed  Frank. 

Mr.  Ellery's  head  had  fallen  backward.  He  was 
struggling  for  breath.  Oh  God,  oh  God !  Such  had  not 
been  even  his  most  dreadful  dream  !  He  groaned. 

"  Take  out  the  books,"  directed  Frank.  "  Put  them 
here  on  the  table." 

Dickie  obeyed.  Frank  received  the  heavy  books,  and 
arranged  them,  first  on  the  table,  then  on  the  floor  as 
their  numbers  became  too  great.  All  the  great  account 
books  of  the  Ellery  walks  were  there,  bound  all  alike, 
numbered  on  the  back  with  their  years,  two  volumes  to 
a  year — the  journal  and  the  ledger.  Frank  placed  them 
in  order,  two  by  two,  and  stood  over  them. 

"  I  have  not  seen  them  in  years,"  he  said.  "  Father 
kept  them  in  the  counting-house.  Uncle  brought  them 
here.  Well !  I  am  glad  to  see  them  again.  See  how 
small  the  first  books  were ;  how  large  the  later  ones.  A 
great  and  profitable  business,  Dickie." 

Dickie  frowned  in  pain. 

"  But  now,"  cried  Frank,  "  look.  There  are  two 
volumes  to  a  year,  year  after  year,  up  to  sixty-seven. 
Then — do  you  notice  ?  Three  to  a  year — until  the  last 
year,  when  there's  but  two  again,  after  Humphreys 


Plot  and  Counterplot  395 

died.  There  are  extra  ledgers  for  six  years.  Did  you 
speak,  uncle  ?  " 

Mr.  Ellery  had  groaned  again.  Rolling  his  head  from 
side  to  side,  he  gave  up  hope.  All  his  years  of  work, 
all  his  dearest  wishes.  Discovered  !  Lost ! 

"  Give  me  the  ledgers  here,"  said  Frank.  He  seated 
himself  at  the  table.  "  So.  Now  the  little  books,  Dickie, 
that  I  brought  from  my  room." 

Mr.  Ellery's  curiosity  held  him  for  a  moment.  What 
were  the  little  leather  books?  Frank  smiled  at  him. 

"  You  never  thought  Humphreys  kept  memoranda  of 
all  balances,  uncle?  Up  to  two  years  ago?  That  he 
gave  them  me  when  he  died? 

The  rolling  of  the  head  began  again.  In  agony, 
his  dry  tongue  lolling,  Mr.  Ellery  writhed  and  twisted. 
The  taller  of  his  nephews  stood  at  the  other's  side  and 
watched ;  the  elder  without  further  speech  began  to 
compare  the  books.  The  uncle  heard  the  rustling  leaves 
in  the  pauses  of  his  movements ;  the  large  stiff  leaves 
crackled  as  they  were  turned.  His  bloodshot  eyes 
looked  helplessly  at  the  canopy  of  the  bed ;  or  saw,  as 
his  head  fell  to  one  side,  the  huge  shadow  of  Dickie, 
from  time  to  time  slightly  moving.  He  knew  when 
Frank  put  his  fingers  on  corresponding  items ;  he  heard 
him  ask  his  brother : 

"Do  you  see?" 

And  the  gigantic  shadow  on  the  wall  would  nod. 

They  might  as  well  have  laid  open  his  heart,  and 
while  it  quivered  before  them,  touched  with  the  knife- 
point this  spot  and  that,  asking:  "  Do  you  see?" 

Again  and  again  he  heard  Frank  ask  the  question. 
Again  and  again  the  shadow  nodded.  He  heard  Frank 
push  one  book  aside  and  draw  another  to  him,  and  then 
again  began  the  crackling  of  the  leaves.  One  explana- 
tion Frank  made  at  last. 


396  The  Colonials 

"  Conversion,  you  see,  of  fictitious  sums  to  his  own 
account.  Humphreys  has  nothing  to  correspond,  and 
agrees  exactly  with  the  old  books." 

Then  next  he  said  "  Perfect !  "  under  his  breath,  and 
next,  "  Do  you  see  ?  "  The  turning  of  leaves  continued, 
and  the  listening  ears  heard.  Once  a  sum  was  mentioned, 
with  the  comment :  "  He  was  crowding  us  out."  Mr. 
Ellery  twisted  still,  and  rolled  his  head.  Light  was  com- 
ing and  going  in  his  eyes;  his  throat  was  parched  as 
from  a  week  of  thirst.  He  thought  he  should  faint.  But 
he  recovered  strength  when  the  last  book  shut  with  a 
louder  noise. 

"  About  fifty  thousand  pounds/'  said  Frank. 

Dickie  nodded  again. 

The  brothers  had  forgotten  their  uncle  now,  so  ab- 
sorbed were  they  in  their  study.  A  perfect  system  was 
revealed  to  them :  the  opening  wedge  of  a  personal 
venture  in  the  Ellery  business ;  an  enlargement,  slow  at 
first,  of  its  returns.  Then  came  the  advancement  of 
sums  at  fair  interest,  sums  constantly  growing  in  size, 
till  the  estate  seemed  deeply  mortgaged  to  the  uncle. 
And  page  after  page  the  imitation  of  Humphreys  hand- 
writing was  exact. 

"Astonishing!"  mused  Frank.  "I  never  expected 
such  a  delicate  piece  of  work,  nor  such  a  large  one. 
Think  of  the  industry  expended !  " 

Hours  of  the  day  and  night,  six  days  in  every  week, 
and  eight  years  in  all,  had  been  given  to  the  work.  It 
was  colossal  in  its  enterprise,  and  marvellous  in  detail. 
Frank  wondered  at  it. 

"  Did  not  the  old  books  remain,"  he  said,  "  it  would 
be  difficult  to  prove." 

Mr.  Ellery  shivered.  The  old  books  were  to  be 
burned  in  the  morning. 

"  But  now,"  cried  Frank,  "  there  will  be  no  proof 


Plot  and  Counterplot  397 

necessary."  He  cast  the  ledger  on  the  hearth.  "  Set 
the  candle  to  that,  Dickie." 

"  Xo  !    No !  "  screamed  Mr.  Ellery,  sitting  up. 

His  nephews  looked  at  him.  Pale,  gasping,  he 
stretched  his  arms  to  save  his  work. 

"  Xo,  no !  "  he  repeated,  and  strove  to  rise  from  the 
bed.  Frank  took  him  by  the  wrist. 

"  The  candle,  Dickie,"  he  directed. 

Dickie  took  a  candle  and  stooped  to  the  book  where  it 
lay  open.  Mr.  Ellery  saw  the  white  leaves  brown,  then 
curl  and  take  the  flame.  He  screamed  once  more,  in  a 
ghastly  rasping  voice.  Then  he  fainted  and  fell  back, 
but  his  nephews  paid  no  heed.  Frank  opened  another 
book,  tore  it  in  two,  and  fed  it  to  the  flames.  And  so, 
ledger  after  ledger,  went  up  in  smoke  the  records  of  Mr. 
Ellery's  painstaking  trusteeship.  At  last  there  remained 
on  the  hearth  nothing  but  charred  paper  and  scorched 
rolls  of  leather. 

4<  Well,"  said  Dickie,  "  that  is  finished."  He  sighed 
with  relief. 

"  There  is  more  to  do,"  answered  Frank.  "  What  now 
remains  in  the  cupboard?  " 

"  Bags,"  said  Dickie,  reaching  in.  "  Shall  I  give 
them?  They  are  heavy." 

"  They  are  bags  of  money,"  said  Frank.  "  Give  them 
here." 

There  were  many  bags  of  different  sizes,  each  with  a 
tag  stating  the  contents.  Fifty,  two  hundred,  seven 
hundred,  even  twelve  hundred  pounds  was  marked  on 
the  bags.  Frank  returned  the  last  to  Dickie. 

"  Put  that  back  in  the  cupboard,"  he  said.  "  Humph- 
reys' accounts  give  nearly  a  thousand  as  due  to  uncle. 
We  will  allow  him  the  rest,  out  of  thanks.  But  there 
must  be  something  more — papers  or  writing  materials. 
Look  and  see.  It  is  important." 


398  The  Colonials 

"  Here,"  said  Dickie,  and  drew  forth  a  sheaf  of  papers. 
"  These  are  the  last  things  there." 

"  They  are  what  I  want,"  answered  Frank.  "  Come 
and  help  me  study  them." 

They  bent  over  the  papers  together.  "  Humphreys' 
hand,"  said  Frank,  throwing  the  first  ones  aside. 
"  More — and  more.  This  is  father's — do  you  see, 
uncle  was  practising.  Why  did  he  keep  these?  But  it 
gives  me  hope.  More  of  fathers.  This  is  yours,  Dickie. 
A  clever  man.  Throw  them  aside.  I  want  an  entirely 
strange  hand." 

"Why?"  asked  Dickie. 

"  Here  are  mine,"  said  Frank. 

Accounts  came  first,  carefully  made.  "  Exact !  "  mur- 
mured Frank.  He  shuffled  them  rapidly  over.  "  But 
here  is  something.  See,  Dickie.  This  would  have  hung 
me." 

The  man  on  the  bed  had  come  to  himself,  but  he 
dared  not  move.  They  might  kill  him  in  their  anger,  if 
he  should  speak. 

"  An  unfinished  copy,  do  you  see  ?  "  asked  Frank. 
"  Dear  Doctor  Warren,  I  have  information,  etc."  He 
threw  the  papers  aside.  "  Look  further,  Dickie,  I  must 
learn  who  sent  the  information  to  Boston." 

"  Is  this  it  ?  "  asked  Dickie. 

"  Yes !  "  cried  Frank. 

There  were  three  unfinished  copies  this  time,  as  Mr. 
Ellery  practised  the  unfamiliar  hand.  The  first  was  but 
a  sentence  ;  the  second  went  as  far  as  the  words :  "  Com- 
mittee of  Safety."  The  third  nearly  finished  the  letter. 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  said  Dickie.  "  Why  is  he 
copying  this,  and  who  wrote  it  ?  " 

Frank  explained,  yet  one  or  two  points  were  not  clear 
to  him. 

"  Were  but  the  original  here!  "  he  said. 


Plot  and  Counterplot  399 

No  original  was  to  be  found.  "  But  you  see  it  was 
necessary  to  change  the  letter,"  mused  Frank.  "  Doubt- 
less it  merely  reported  my  own.  Never  mind.  Who  was 
the  writer  of  this  ?  Who  ?  " 

He  bent  over  the  letter,  reading  it  carefully.  One 
familiar  with  American  affairs,  who  knew  Warren  well, 
the  Committee —  Frank  struck  the  table  with  his 
hands,  and  looked  up  at  his  brother.  "  A  member  of 
the  Committee  of  Safety !  "  he  cried. 

"  Name  them !  "  demanded  Dickie,  eagerly. 

"  Warren,"  began  Frank,  "  Bowdoin,  Hancock, 
Church — "  He  stopped. 

"  Go  on !  "  said  Dickie.    "  None  of  these.    Go  on." 

"Church?"  asked  Frank  of  himself. 

"  Yes,  he  was  a  member.    Who  next?  "  urged  Dickie. 

"  It  was  Church !  "  cried  Frank,  and  sunk  his  head  in 
his  hands.  He  had  no  doubt.  In  his  mind  rose  the  pic- 
ture of  Church  and  Sotheran,  near  Faneuil  Hall,  ex- 
changing glances  of  meaning.  Church  and  Sotheran — 
yes,  it  was  true. 

"  It  is  impossible !  "  gasped  Dickie. 

Frank  rose,  white  and  stern.  "  It  is  true.  Now  let 
us  go." 

They  took  the  ledgers  of  the  last  few  years,  and 
carried  them  away.  They  took  the  forgeries.  They 
brought  out  the  bags,  and  locked  the  door  behind  them. 
Mr.  Ellery  could  not  escape.  Carrying  their  burdens, 
Frank  and  Dickie  went  down  to  the  dining-room. 

"  What  now  ?  "  said  Dickie. 

"  Through  the  wall,"  said  Frank.  He  gave  his  brother 
the  candle  to  hold,  and  opened  the  secret  door. 

With  surprise  Dickie  saw  revealed  more  secrets  of  his 
home.  This  chamber  and  the  winding  stair,  the  corner 
whence  emerged  again  the  Ellery  silver  and  jewels,  long 
since  gone,  were  wonderful  to  him.  Into  the  corner 


400  The  Colonials 

Frank  returned  the  valuables,  and  thrust  the  books  and 
money  in  beside  them. 

"  We  shall  find  them  when  we  want  them,"  he  said. 
"  Now  come  down." 

They  descended  more  than  twenty  steps  to  a  little 
chamber  boarded  with  oak.  It  was  empty,  but  there 
came  to  Dickie  the  faint  suggestion  of  the  ocean,  in 
sound  and  odour.  Whence  ? 

"  Here  are  springs  in  the  wall,"  said  Frank.  "  Notice. 
Do  not  forget.  The  door  opens  toward  you." 

Another  door  swung  open  to  another  chamber,  where 
the  ocean  sound  was  louder,  and  the  smell  of  salt  was 
strong.  A  chamber  of  stone  was  this,  with  pillars  of 
brick  upholding  a  roof  of  great  slate  slabs.  The  candle 
lighted  the  place  dimly,  and  the  columns  cast  great 
shadows.  Moisture  dripped  from  above,  boxes  and 
casks  lay  mouldering  on  the  uneven  floor,  and  Dickie 
stood  astonished  at  this  secret  of  the  old-time  smuggling 
trade.  Frank  shut  the  door  behind,  and  led  him  onward. 

They  came  to  the  end  of  a  straight  passage,  vaulted 
in  a  semicircle,  narrow  and  low.  They  stooped  as  they 
entered  it ;  stone  became  sand  beneath  their  feet,  and 
Dickie,  as  he  looked  ahead,  saw  in  the  darkness  the 
glimmer  of  the  candle's  rays  on  little  waves,  and  heard 
the  water  lapping  on  a  beach.  They  neared  a  bulky 
object  lying  in  the  passage.  It  was  a  boat.  They 
stopped  beside  it. 

"  I  understand  at  last,"  cried  Dickie.  "  Through  this 
passage  you  and  Benjy  went,  years  ago.  Through  this 
you  escaped  the  soldiers  just  the  other  day." 

"  Through  this,"  responded  Frank,  "  I  would  have 
put  you  in  safety,  had  you  not  rushed  away  to  find 
Sotheran." 

"  But  now,"  said  Dickie,  touching  the  skiff,  "  we  go 
away." 

"  You  go,"  answered  Frank,  "  I  stay." 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE    LETTER 

Dickie  was  white  as  he  asked  his  brother:    "  Why?" 

''  You  must  go,"  answered  Frank,  "  to  accuse  Church. 
I  stay  to  get  the  proof." 

"  I  must  stay  with  you,"  cried  Dickie.  "  You  may  be 
taken.  And  you  will  have  no  boat." 

"  If  we  are  both  taken,"  asked  Frank.  "  What  further 
harm  may  not  the  traitor  work?  And  I  can  swim." 

Dickie  dropped  his  head.     ''  I  will  go." 

"  Dear  boy,"  cried  Frank,  "  I  may  yet  reach  head- 
quarters before  you.  Take  this  copy  of  Doctor  Church's 
letter.  I  will  keep  the  one  that  is  half  finished.  Now, 
Dickie,  quickly." 

They  carried  the  boat  to  the  mouth  of  the  passage, 
which,  narrow  and  low,  in  the  shadow  of  the  wharves, 
and  uncovered  only  twice  a  day  by  the  tide,  was  from 
the  outside  almost  undiscoverable.  They  launched  the 
skiff,  and  Dickie,  bending  low  as  he  sat  in  it,  pushed 
from  under  the  arch.  Then,  as  he  floated  out  beneath 
the  wharf,  the  thought  that  he  alone  was  seeking  safety 
daunted  him. 

"  Please,  Frank  !  "  he  begged. 

Frank  had  put  out  the  candle.  "  Go,  Dickie,"  sounded 
his  voice  from  the  darkness.  "  Beware  the  warships. 
Good  night." 

And  so  they  separated. 

The  moon  was  still  overclouded,  and  for  Dickie  was 


402  The  Colonials 

little  chance  of  discovery.  In  the  streets,  as  Frank  left 
the  house,  there  was  light  enough  to  see  the  going,  but 
not  enough  to  reveal  a  face.  He  laid  his  course  boldly. 
Four  enemies  to  one  friend  were  in  the  town,  but  he 
knew  every  turn  of  the  streets,  each  garden  and  each 
wall,  and  felt  that  the  chance  was  fair.  He  pulled  his  hat 
over  his  eyes,  once  more  made  himself  shorter,  and 
traced  a  zigzag  down  the  very  middle  of  the  street. 
The  first  person  that  he  met  laughed  at  him. 

"  Laugh !  "  thought  Frank  as  he  recalled  Brush's  own 
words.  "  Not  so  drunk  as  ye  might  think." 

He  planned  his  way,  and  followed  it  as  directly  as  his 
conscientious  imitation  of  the  jailer  could  carry  him. 
Many  in  the  town  knew  Brush ;  Frank  had  no  desire 
to  impersonate  him  sober.  But  he  met  no  other  people, 
and  soon  was  reeling  along  the  street  through  which, 
but  last  night,  he  had  passed  to  prison.  The  street  was 
silent ;  and  on  account  of  the  moon,  although  obscured, 
no  lamps  were  lighted.  The  dwellings  all  seemed  dark. 
Which  was  the  house  ?  Under  which  lamp  had  he  dared 
Sotheran  to  fight  ?  From  which  window  had  the  captain 
leaned  last  night? 

There  was  a  light. 

He  stood  beneath  an  open  window  and  looked  up.  A 
flickering  candle  burned  within — he  saw  its  moving 
shadow  on  the  ceiling.  If  this  were  the  house,  that 
was  Sotheran's  room.  Yes,  there  was  the  low  stoop  on 
which  Sotheran  had  stood  to  sneer  at  him.  No  neigh- 
bouring house  had  such. 

"  If  the  door  is  but  unlocked !  "  thought  Frank.  He 
went  silently  up  the  steps. 

He  doubted  his  own  success,  but  the  door  yielded 
as  he  raised  the  latch.  He  entered  the  house,  heavy 
with  its  heat,  where  distant  snores  gave  evidence  that 
the  housekeeper's  family  was  asleep.  Closing  the  door 


Plot  and  Counterplot  403 

he  stood  and  listened  in  the  entry.  Above  him  he  heard 
the  sound  of  regular  breathing. 

"  Pray  heaven,"  thought  Frank,  "  he  is  asleep !  "  And 
he  mounted  the  stairs. 

The  captain's  door  was  ajar,  and  the  light  from  the 
candle  showed  Frank  his  way.  The  stairs  creaked  twice, 
but  he  went  on  until  he  reached  the  upper  hall.  Then  he 
stopped  and  listened.  The  snores  now  sounded  from 
below,  the  heavy  breathing  from  the  captain's  room. 

"  He  is  asleep,"  said  Frank,  satisfied,  and  went  di- 
rectly thither. 

He  saw  through  the  open  door  the  interior  of  the 
room.  A  candle,  guttering  in  the  draught,  gave  the 
light.  Glasses  and  bottles  stood  upon  the  table.  All 
doors  were  open  for  air,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  room, 
in  a  large  armchair,  the  captain  sat  asleep.  His  band- 
aged foot  was  propped  in  another  chair ;  his  face  was 
upturned,  and  he  slept  quietly.  Frank  entered,  and 
softly  shut  the  door. 

Then  he  advanced  to  the  captain's  side,  keeping  the 
candle  at  his  own  back.  He  pulled  the  hat  farther  over 
his  brow,  and  looked  at  the  sleeping  man.  A  powerful 
face  that  was.  There  was  no  heaviness  to  the  clean-cut 
jaw,  no  thickness  to  the  lips,  nor  to  the  nose.  The  fore- 
head was  broad  and  high ;  the  face  was  unwrinkled,  save 
that  between  the  brows  was  the  little  frown  that  meant 
command,  and  at  nose  and  mouth — faint  but  discernible 
— were  the  lines  that  stood  for  cruelty.  Yes,  powerful 
and  handsome  both.  And  clever  too.  Could  he  be 
tricked  ? 

Frank  put  his  hand  upon  the  captain's  shoulder,  and 
moved  him  slightly. 

"  Captain !  "  he  whispered  hoarsely. 

"  Eh?  "  said  the  captain,  stirring. 

"  Captain !  "  repeated  Frank,  and  pushed  him  once 
more. 


404  The  Colonials 

The  captain  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  at  him. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  he  asked,  surprised. 

"Tis  I,"  whispered  Frank,  rapidly.  "  Tis  Brush, 
sir.  I've  brought  you  from  Tom  the  letter  from  Doctor 
Church." 

"That  letter?"  demanded  Sotheran,  starting  wide 
awake,  "  give  it  here.  Damnation,  told  he  you  of  it?  " 

"We  were  just  hobnobbing,"  answered  Frank.  He 
began  to  fumble  in  his  pockets,  holding  down  his  face. 
"  Tom  drank  too  much,  and  told  me  of  it.  I  said  the 
letter  should  be  returned  to  you.  But  eh,  'tis  clever  of 
you  and  the  doctor,  sir.  I'll  wager  no  one  suspects. 
Here's  the  letter,  sir." 

He  held  out  the  folded  copy,  and  Sotheran  seized  it. 

"  Fellow,"  the  captain  cried.  "  You  have  learned  too 
much.  If  you  breathe  the  doctor's  name,  or  tell  of  this. 
you  shall  rue  it.  Stand  aside  and  let  me  see  if  the  letter 
is  correct.  Why,  'tis  not  complete !  " 

"  A  mistake,"  mumbled  Frank,  reaching  for  the  letter. 

"  And  damme,"  cried  the  captain  agrily,  "  now  I  re- 
collect. Ellery  returned  the  letter,  and  knew  no  names. 
Hark  ye  here,  Mr.  Brush.  Your  officiousness — are  you 
drunk,  fellow?  I  will  keep  this." 

"  I  think,"  said  Frank,  in  his  natural  voice,  "  that  I 
will  take  it." 

"  God ! "  cried  the  captain,  starting  violently, 
"Ellery!" 

"  Your  servant,"  answered  Frank,  removing  his  hat. 
He  saw  the  captain's  whole  body  quiver,  and  smiled. 

But  Sotheran's  surprise  passed  instantly.  Controll- 
ing his  anger  and  dismay,  he  saw  the  situation  and  ac- 
cepted it.  Ellery  had  escaped,  had  forced  the  secret 
from  his  uncle,  and  had  come  for  the  original  letter. 
Questions  and  details  were  superfluous.  What  was 
there  to  do? 


Plot  and  Counterplot  405 

He  smiled  languidly,  leaning  back  again.  "  A  capital 
disguise." 

"  It  served,"  answered  Frank.  "  But  the  letter,  Cap- 
tain?" 

"  Here,"  answered  Sotheran,  giving  the  copy. 

"  The  original  ?  "  asked  Frank. 

"  You  come  too  late,"  said  the  captain  smiling. 
"  Your  pretty  trick  was  wasted.  The  letter  is  burned." 

There  was  nothing  to  be  learned  from  his  face.  The 
smile  was  the  same  as  at  all  times — inscrutable.  He 
dropped  his  hands  easily  in  his  lap,  and  looked  at  Frank 
amused. 

"  The  trick  was  not  wasted,"  said  Frank.  "  You  ad- 
mitted the  truth.  My  suspicion  was  but  a  guess.  For 
such  a  clever  man,  Captain  Sotheran,  you  surprise  me." 

"  You  forget,"  replied  the  captain,  easily,  "  that  I  am 
dealing  with  so  wise  a  man  as  yourself." 

"  And  to-morrow,"  went  on  Frank,  "  Doctor  Church 
will  lose  his  opportunity  to  write  more  letters." 

"Poor  Doctor!"  exclaimed  Sotheran.  He  did  not 
move ;  his  head  rested  upon  the  chair-back,  and  he  re- 
garded Frank  through  half  shut  eyes.  "  That  will  be  a 
hardship  to  him.  He  is  very  literary.  So  you  are  leav- 
ing town?  " 

"  I  am." 

"  Can  I  not  persuade  you  to  remain?" 

Frank  smiled  grimly  at  the  urbanity.  "  Not  even 
your  attractions,"  he  replied,  "  will  be  sufficient.  And 
yet  I  thank  you  for  your  service  to  me,  Captain." 

"  Indeed  !    Will  you  explain  ?  " 

"  Your  device  of  the  forged  letter,"  said  Frank, 
'*  taught  me  many  things.  The  general  showed  it  me 
this  morning.  It  was  very  deceptive,  Captain.  But  the 
original  had  a  postscript." 


406  The  Colonials 

"  That  is  interesting/'  said  Sotheran,  closing  his  eyes. 
"  Pray  go  on."  He  tapped  his  lips  as  if  stifling  a  yawn. 

"  The  forgery  taught  me,"  said  Frank.  "  That  you 
had  an  accomplice  in  the  American  camp.  That  you 
knew  some  one  who  could  imitate  my  hand.  That  there 
must  have  been  a  letter  to  the  general  accompanying 
the  forgery — another  forgery,  Captain." 

"  The  steps  of  your  reasoning?  "  required  the  captain. 

But  it  was  no  longer  easy  for  him  to  speak.  Frank 
felt  the  difference  in  the  voice,  and  saw  the  eyes,  not 
languid  now,  open  again. 

"  Mathematical,"  he  replied.  "  Without  a  flaw.  And 
when  our  talkative  friend  Brush  revealed  who  was  the 
forger,  I  learned,  my  dear  Captain,  how  I  might  save 
my  inheritance,  and  also  serve  my  cause." 

"So?"  asked  the  captain,  through  his  teeth. 

"  Captain,  Captain !  "  said  Frank.  "  Excuse  this  word. 
You  overreached  yourself.  Your  plan  was  too  fine. 
You  should  have  used  Doctor  Church's  letter  as  it 
came.  Your  tricks  and  my  uncle's  are  finished." 

"  I  use  no  tricks,"  said  Sotheran.  "  But  fellow,  since 
you  are  leaving  town,  favour  me  before  you  go.  There 
are  pistols  in  that  case." 

He  could  restrain  himself  no  longer.  His  pride  was 
deeply  stung,  and  his  voice  hissed  with  passion.  But 
Frank,  leaning  closer,  shook  his  head. 

"  I  should  be  a  fool,"  he  said,  "  to  advertise  my  pre- 
sence here.  If  it  were  swords,  Captain — but  you  have 
had  an  accident."  Sotheran  panted.  "  My  brother,  it 
is  true,  has  gone  to  Cambridge  with  the  accusation.  But 
I  need  proof — and  here  it  is.  Don't  struggle,  friend." 

He  seized  the  captain's  wrists.  Frank's  fingers  were 
long;  he  held  the  wrists  together  with  one  hand,  and 
thrust  the  other  into  the  captain's  coat. 

"  Fellow !  "  cried  Sotheran,  furiously.  "  Pickpocket !  " 


Plot  and  Counterplot  407 

But  Frank  withdrew  a  wallet  from  the  captain's 
breast.  Then  he  released  the  wrists,  his  grip  on  which 
had  left  them  marked  with  white. 

"  Names  do  no  harm,"  he  said.  "  Excuse  the  disre- 
spect, and  the  liberty  I  take."  He  held  the  wallet  near 
the  light,  ran  over  its  papers,  and  extracted  one.  The 
others  he  laid  on  the  table. 

"  Tradesman  !  "  sneered  the  captain. 

"  And  now,"  said  Frank,  putting  away  his  letters, 
"  your  wrists  once  more."  He  took  from  the  chair  the 
captain's  sash.  "  Will  you  be  quiet,  or  must  I  silence 
you  ?  " 

The  captain  started  angrily  upright.  "  If  I  were  but 
armed " 

"  Yet  not  being  so?  "  asked  Frank. 

Sotheran  controlled  himself,  and  sank  back.  The 
flash  of  an  idea  gleamed  for  a  single  instant  from  his 
eyes :  friends  would  come  soon.  Time  was  everything. 
He  stretched  out  his  wrists. 

"  Bind  me !  "  he  said. 

It  was  suspicious,  yet  Frank  saw  he  meant  it.  With- 
out a  struggle  or  a  sound  he  allowed  Frank  to  bind, 
first  his  wrists,  then  his  body  to  the  chair. 

"  Now,"  he  said  quietly,  "  let  us  talk." 

"  Time  is  going,"  answered  Frank.  "  And  I  fear  I 
must  gag  you,  Captain." 

"  Five  minutes,"  responded  Sotheran,  "  is  all  I  ask." 

"  Well,"  answered  Frank,  "  begin." 

"  Be  seated,"  said  the  captain. 

Frank  drew  up  a  chair  and  sat  down.  "  Well  ?  "  he 
asked. 

He  could  but  admire  the  captain's  composure.  With 
true  English  condescension,  quite  at  his  ease,  Sotheran 
seemed  to  be  speaking  to  one  he  desired  to  reason  from 
his  ways.  His  voice  was  quiet,  his  manner  tolerant,  as  if, 


408  The  Colonials 

pained  by  such  treatment,  he  yet  was  ready  to  forgive. 
With  his  first  word  he  puzzled  Frank  and  held  his  close 
attention. 

"  Why  should  one  of  your  ability,"  he  asked,  "  leave 
the  town  ?  " 

"  Is  that  not  plain  ?  " 

"  Remain,"  said  the  captain.  "  Mr.  Ellery,  this  night 
you  have  taught  me  to  respect  you.  You  are  more  than 
I  thought.  We  should  be  friends." 

Frank  smiled.     "  Truly,  Captain?  " 

"  I  can  secure  you  a  position  in  the  army." 

"  Your  generals  were  enraged  with  me  this  morning. 
Gladly  would  they  have  hung  me  without  formalities. 
How  should  they,  or  your  comrades,  receive  me  into  the 
army  ?  " 

"You  suspect  me?"  asked  the  captain.  "It  is  rea- 
sonable. I  have  opposed  you  openly.  And  yet  there  is 
a  reason,  and  a  good  one,  why  my  mind  has  changed. 
Come,  I  will  be  frank."  He  dropped  his  voice,  yet  spoke 
more  slowly  and  distinctly.  "  You  conceive  I  am  oppos- 
ing you  with  Mistress  Tudor?  " 

"  Leave  her  name  out !  "  cried  Frank. 

"  Your  pardon,  and  your  patience,"  answered  the 
captain.  He  spoke  more  slowly  still.  "  Let  me 
acknowledge  that  I  have  received  my  refusal.  Stay,  and 
win  her." 

The  confession  seemed  to  come  hard,  yet  brought 
relief,  for  at  the  end  he  looked  at  Frank  with  openness. 
But  Frank  rose  from  his  seat. 

"  I  understand,"  he  said.  "  Smooth  talker,  another 
might  believe  you.  But  I  perceive,  Captain.  The 
glasses  on  the  tray  have  not  been  used,  the  light  was 
burning,  the  door  below  unlocked  when  I  came,  and  at 
this  hour  you  are  not  in  bed.  This  talk  is  to  gain  time. 
You  expect  friends." 


Plot  and  Counterplot  409 

"  You  misjudge  me,"  answered  the  captain.  "  Be 
seated,  and  hear  me  out." 

But  he  was  listening.  Frank  listened  too.  Through 
the  open  window  they  heard  footsteps  in  the  street. 

"  Harriman !  "  shouted  Sotheran  with  all  his  force. 
«  Orm " 

Frank  caught  him  by  the  throat. 

"  Coming !  "  answered  a  merry  voice  outside. 

The  captain,  bound  as  he  was,  saw  there  was  no  help 
in  struggling.  He  bore  the  pain  of  Frank's  fierce  grip, 
and  as  he  heard  the  response  from  his  friends  his  eyes 
shot  at  his  enemy  a  glance  that  said : 

"  You  are  caught !  " 

"  Damnation !  "  thought  Frank,  and  looked  about  for 
a  gag.  He  seized  the  captain's  empty  wallet  and 
crammed  it  into  the  open  mouth.  Then  he  leaped  to  the 
door  to  lock  it. 

There  was  no  key.  He  seized  a  chair  to  put  it  against 
the  door,  and  heard  the  officers  open  the  door  below. 
Their  feet  were  on  the  stairs. 

"  M — m — ah  !  "  roared  Sotheran,  casting  out  the  gag. 
"  Harriman  !  Help !  Murder !  Break  down  the  door !  " 

Clattering  and  stamping,  Frank  heard  the  officers 
rushing  up  the  stairs.  He  stepped  to  the  window,  placed 
a  hand  on  the  sill,  and  vaulted  lightly  out. 

The  fall  was  not  high,  and  he  recovered  quickly. 
They  could  not  catch  him,  or  even  see  him  as  they 
leaned  bewildered  from  the  window,  looking  for  they 
knew  not  what.  He  sped  silently  close  to  the  houses, 
turned  the  corner,  and  left  the  street  unseen.  Tardily 
they  raised  the  cry  behind  him. 

"Thief!     Murder!" 

But  he  was  gone.  Before  an  hour  had  passed  he  rose, 
dripping,  out  of  the  water  on  the  Cambridge  shore. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

HOLLOW    SUCCESS 

Frank  had  told ;  the  letter  had  been  produced. 

"  Church !  Church !  "  was  all  that  Washington  had 
said. 

Reproach  without  measure,  sadness  deeper  than 
words,  thrilled  in  his  voice.  Church  saw  the  eye  that 
looked  on  him,  the  eye  of  pitying  justice.  He  felt  a 
sudden  knowledge  of  himself;  he  saw  the  blackness  of 
his  shame,  the  depths  of  his  fall.  The  veil  of  honour  was 
torn  from  him;  he  stood,  a  traitor.  He  had  no  defence ; 
with  Washington's  repetition  of  his  name  he  felt  a  nation 
cast  him  forth.  He  staggered,  and  covered  his  face  with 
his  hands. 

That  moment,  even  before  they  led  him  away,  began 
his  punishment — Dante's  punishment  for  traitors  in 
hell.  To  be  imprisoned  in  ice,  and  yet  to  feel  and  know ! 
Alone  and  unbelieved,  from  that  moment  hearts  were 
ice  to  him.  Vain  at  his  trial  to  seek  to  exculpate  him- 
self. Abandoned,  hated  by  his  friends,  slowly  he  was 
to  turn  cold  before  the  frigid  world,  to  feel  his  very 
blood  begin  to  freeze. 

They  took  him  to  prison.  Washington,  Knox,  and 
Dickie  watched  him  go.  But  Frank,  regardless  of  him, 
stood  at  the  window  and  looked  out. 

He  saw  beyond  the  scene  which  lay  immediately  be- 
fore him.  The  glow  of  triumph  was  gone ;  Washington 
had  taught  him  not  to  exult  in  a  traitor's  fall.  He  was 


Plot  and  Counterplot  411 

reading  his  future,  and  he  looked  across  the  meadows 
at  Boston  as  at  the  past. 

Gone !  Everything  was  gone — youth  and  happiness 
and  all  personal  desires.  He  felt  older.  Boston  held  his 
childhood,  his  early  manhood,  and  his  love.  He  had  left 
them  all  behind — his  fortune  too.  Amid  his  foes  the 
stimulus  of  danger  had  sustained  him ;  but  now  he  felt 
let  down,  deep  down.  He  was  in  safety ;  he  was  to  be 
one  of  the  army.  He  was  to  fight  for  his  country — and 
lose  himself.  For  there  across  the  river,  the  marshes, 
and  the  broad  Back  Bay,  lay  his  pleasures  and  his  per- 
sonal wishes — nay,  his  one  wish,  so  dear !  But  lost  for- 
ever, now.  "  Good-by !  "  he  breathed. 

Washington  spoke.     "  Young  men,"  he  said. 

The  brothers  turned  to  him.  He  was  smiling.  "  How 
we  have  seen  him  change !  "  thought  Dickie,  "  to  pity, 
to  seething  anger,  and  to  kindness." 

"  Young  men,"  repeated  Washington.  "  Colonel 
Knox  has  told  me  of  you.  You  have  helped  me  much. 
Will  you  help  me  more  ?  " 

Frank  had  a  sudden  false  hope.  "  To  take  Dorchester 
Heights?"  he  asked  with  energy. 

Washington  exchanged  glances  with  Knox.  "  He  is 
as  you  said.  No,"  he  answered  Frank ;  "  that  is  far  off. 
But  will  you  serve  with  us  ?  " 

Frank's  sadness  returned,  and  he  merely  bowed. 
Dickie  moved  nearer  to  him. 

"  If  I  can  be  with  my  brother,"  he  said. 

"  You  shall  be  with  him,"  answered  Washington. 
"  Colonel  Knox  desires  to  have  you  serve  with  him, 
and  the  artillery  is  the  branch  of  service  in  which  I  most 
need  men.  What  do  you  say  ?  " 

Dickie  looked  at  Frank.    He  bowed  again. 

"  What  am  I  to  understand  ?"  asked  the  general.    "  Is 


412  The  Colonials 

this  not  acceptable?  You  have  done  me  a  great  ser- 
vice. If  you  like,  you  shall  enter  the  infantry." 

"  I  should  prefer,"  said  Frank,  "  to  serve  with 
Colonel  Knox." 

But  still  he  could  not  smile. 

Washington  came  nearer.  "  I  think  I  understand. 
Colonel  Knox  has  said,  you  leave  behind  a — friend, 
and  you  fear  that  an  enemy,  a  villain — "  He  did  not 
end  the  sentence,  for  over  Frank's  face  passed  a  spasm 
of  pain. 

"  Fear  not,"  said  Washington  quickly.  He  laid  his 
hand  upon  the  young  man's  shoulder.  "  If  she  is  good, 
and  he  is  bad,  he  can  never  win  her." 

In  the  months  that  were  to  follow  Frank  took  endless 
comfort  in  those  words.  But  now  he  shook  his  head. 

"  Let  me  work,"  he  said,  "  and  fight.  All  else  is 
behind." 


The  Evacuation  of 
the  town  of  Boston  by  the  British 


from,  fhe  "Washington  Medal 


Book  Si* 


RETRIBUTION   4 


Chapter  One 


OOOOOOOOOOCX 


The  Man  is  Bad 


HE  story  turns  to  Alice,  who  now,  for 
nearly  ten  months  having  borne  the 
hardships  of  the  siege,  was  at  the 
beginning  of  those  last  tremendous 
changes  which  were  to  affect  alike 
the  fortunes  of  Britain  arid  of  her- 
self. 

For  Washington  was  at  last  preparing  for  action. 
Throughout  the  summer  he  had  planned  and  made  that 
chain  of  fortifications  which  seemed  the  work  of  years 
instead  of  months.  Though  each  succeeding  redoubt 
was  built  a  little  nearer  to  the  British  defences,  Gage  lay 
quiet  in  Boston,  and  when,  recalled  to  England,  he  left 
Howe  in  command,  that  deliberate  general  began  his 
series  of  delays  which  was  to  give  America  the  war. 
Washington's  difficulties  grew  less  through  Howe's  in- 
action ;  in  peace  the  rebels  disbanded  one  army  and  en- 
listed another;  with  cartridge-boxes  nearly  empty  they 
patrolled  their  lines,  and  manned  cannon  which  twenty 


41 6  The  Colonials 

minutes'  fire  would  have  rendered  useless  for  want  of 
powder.  The  colonists  were  poorly  paid  and  disaffected, 
there  were  not  muskets  enough  to  equip  them  all;  yet 
Howe,  remembering  Bunker's  Hill,  gave  them  the  one 
thing  they  needed — time. 

And  Washington  shaped  his  army  at  last.  It  was  no 
longer  a  "commissioned  mob";  it  was  housed  and 
warm;  muskets  were  found;  Knox  and  Ellery  were 
bringing  from  Ticonderoga  cannon  of  all  kinds.  And 
the  rudimentary  navy,  nothing  more  than  a  few  fishing 
vessels,  was  bringing  into  the  New  England  ports,  and 
hurrying  to  Cambridge,  valuable  supplies,  and  among 
them  powder.  Yet  still  the  commander  knew  his  weak- 
ness, seeing  well  the  difference  between  holding  post 
around  a  sluggish  enemy,  and  attacking  him  in  his 
stronghold.  Congress  might  press  for  action,  the  coun- 
try might  clamour,  but  Washington  would  not  stir.  To 
storm  the  town  would  be  madness.  He  appointed  a 
new  engineer,  that  was  all,  to  consider  the  possibility 
of  fortifying  Dorchester  Heights. 

That  man  was  Rufus  Putnam,  millwright  and  farmer, 
hardy,  self-educated,  and  able,  yet  unschooled  for  his 
task.  Only  one  man  in  the  camp  had  studied  fortifica- 
tion, Gridley,  the  engineer  of  Bunker's  Hill,  who  never- 
theless could  suggest  no  way  to  make,  in  a  single  night 
from  frozen  ground,  earthworks  to  withstand  cannon- 
fire.  That  was  Putnam's  problem ;  it  weighed  upon  him 
and  tormented  him  for  many  days.  His  is  the  credit  for 
solving  it — yet  Frank  Ellery  deserves  a  share. 

Knox  and  Frank  had  returned  with  the  cannon  from 
Ticonderoga,  and  learned  of  the  difficulty.  Frank  spoke 
to  Knox,  Knox  spoke  to  Putnam,  Putnam  came  to 
Frank  in  haste.  "  What  is  this,"  the  engineer  cried, 
"  I  hear  that  you  have  said?  We  can  fortify  in  winter? 
With  chandeliers?  And  what  are  they ?  Timber  frames 


Retribution  417 

to  hold  fascines?  "  His  eyes  flashed.  "The  book! 
The  book  wherein  they  are  described !  " 

He  took  the  book  away  with  him ;  in  the  morning  the 
problem  was  solved.  He  came  to  Frank  with  enthusi- 
astic face ;  there  was  no  jealousy  in  the  man.  "  The 
credit  for  this  shall  be  yours,"  he  said.  "  And  you  shall 
command  the  cannon  when  we  take  the  Heights." 

"  The  latter  will  be  reward  enough,"  answered  Ellery. 

The  hint  was  Frank's ;  but  the  whole  great  scheme 
was  Putnam's.  It  was  he  who  planned  the  huge  attempt 
to  make  two  forts  in  Roxbury,  to  carry  them  to  Dor- 
chester, and  there  to  set  the  pieces  in  their  places.  In 
its  magnitude  it  was  a  plan  unique  in  history. 

Meanwhile  in  Boston  the  troops  and  Tories,  far  from 
comfortable  to  be  sure,  were  making  the  best  of  a  bear- 
able situation.  In  the  early  winter  there  was  some 
distress  from  lack  of  food  and  fuel.  Prices  rose  high, 
and  the  poorer  sort  went  hungry  and  cold.  But  un- 
occupied houses  were  torn  down  for  firewood,  others 
were  condemned,  some  wharves  were  broken  up,  and  the 
Old  North  Church  for  a  time  supplied  (to  far  other  than 
its  parishioners)  physical  rather  than  spiritual  comfort. 
Burdened  with  the  demand  for  food  General  Howe  took 
steps  to  remove  Whig  paupers  from  the  town,  and  in 
midwinter  landed  hundreds  on  Point  Shirley,  whence 
they  were  taken  by  the  Province.  Until  supplies  arrived, 
those  who  remained  in  Boston  moved  constantly  into 
closer  quarters,  and  each  house  as  it  was  vacated  was 
demolished.  But  by  the  middle  of  January  storeships 
(such  as  the  Americans  did  not  seize)  brought  relief. 
Provisions  became  plentier,  prices  fell  slightly,  there 
was  coal  to  be  had,  and  those  of  the  upper  circles  turned 
their  thoughts  to  gayety. 

The  Old  South  Church  was  a  riding-school;  Faneuil 
Hall  became  a  play-house.  Dances  were  not  un- 


41 8  The  Colonials 

common,  and  card-assemblies  were  frequent.  There 
was  sleighing  in  the  streets  and  skating  at  the  Neck, 
and  receiving  at  last  a  portion  of  their  back  pay,  the 
officers  might  gamble.  And  yet  this  last  amusement 
went  no  longer  at  its  old-time  pace,  for  its  leader,  Cap- 
tain Sotheran,  played  no  more,  in  attendance  as  he  was 
upon  Mistress  Tudor.  She,  it  was  whispered,  was  re- 
forming him. 

There  is  force  in  manners  far  more  effective  than 
mere  words.  By  manners  the  wise  are  deceived ;  and  the 
ear  which  could  detect  the  clang  of  falsehood,  hearing 
nothing,  cannot  warn  the  heart.  He  who  can  act  a  lie 
need  not  speak  it ;  he  who  will  copy  needs  no  other 
flattery.  Silence  is  golden,  it  buys  more  than  words ; 
and  the  quiet,  attentive,  imitative  follower  of  a  woman 
is  her  most  dangerous  suitor.  Sotheran,  constantly  at 
Alice's  side  at  the  assembly,  the  play,  or  in  church,  was 
winning  her  affection. 

Seven  months  had  passed  since  Alice  had  heard  of 
Frank.  He  had  become  a  shadow.  What  should  she 
think  of  him,  or  how  know  that  he  loved  her?  She  had 
waited,  ready;  unloverlike,  he  had  delayed.  Shall  a 
woman  remain  faithful  to  an  unasked  passion?  Not 
pique,  but  a  little  shame  was  lessening  her  love. 

The  feeling  was  not  dead,  but  it  was  dying.  Alice 
was  beginning  to  look  upon  it  as  of  the  past.  With 
regret  she  watched  it  go :  a  woman  does  not  willingly 
give  up  her  first  love.  But  Sotheran  was  there  to  take 
Frank's  place.  Imperceptibly  he  was  becoming  a  neces- 
sary part  of  her  life.  A  little  longer,  and  habit,  with 
the  wishes  and  efforts  of  all  her  friends,  would  bring 
about  the  end. 

But  Barbara  knew.  She  heard  the  news  Pete  brought 
from  Ann.  The  ropemaker  was  almost  speechless  with 
dismay.  What  would  Master  Frank  think?  But  Bar- 


Retribution  419 

bara?  No,  Barbara  had  never  yet  lost  the  power  of 
speech.  She  thought ;  she  planned ;  she  went  out  upon 
the  Mall  one  morning  and  put  herself  in  Alice's  way. 

Had  Tudor  been  there,  Barbara  would  have  failed. 
But  Sotheran  drew  away  as  Alice  went  to  Barbara,  and 
waited  for  the  civilities  to  end.  At  a  distance  from  the 
knots  of  loungers,  Barbara  received  Alice  with  an  as- 
pect as  on  the  day  of  Concord  fight. 

"  Good  morning,"  she  said  very  shortly.  "  Am  I  to 
congratulate  you  ?  " 

What  rumour,  thought  Alice,  had  come  to  her  friend? 
She  prepared  for  a  denial.  "  You  have  heard — "  she 
asked.  , 

"  That  you  are  to  live  in  the  Ellery  house." 

Alice  was  relieved.  "  So  you  know  that  ?  Yes,  it  is 
true.  You  know  George  must  sleep  in  barracks  now. 
Mrs.  Drew,  in  a  panic  at  the  recent  firing,  declared  she 
must  return  to  England,  and  I  could  not  live  in  the 
cottage  alone." 

"  Who — ?  How — ?  ''  said  Barbara.  The  fragmentary 
questions  conveyed  her  thought  perfectly. 

"  There  is  absolutely  no  other  place  in  town,"  an- 
swered Alice,  flushing  as  she  felt  the  weight  of  Barbara's 
disapproval.  "  For  an  hour  I  thought,  indeed,  that  I 
must  sail  for  England  for  very  lack  of  lodging,  so  are 
all  quarters  crowded.  But  the  voyage  in  winter  is  more 
dangerous  than  to  stay,  my  brother  thinks,  and  the 
spring  campaign  will  finish  the  rebellion.  The  idea  is 
Captain  Sotheran's.  Mr.  Ellery  is  very  much  his  friend." 

Barbara  glanced  at  the  lounging  figure,  and  said 
nothing. 

"  So  much,"  said  Alice  brightly,  "  has  one  short  bom- 
bardment done  for  me.  And  did  it  trouble  you?  " 

"  It  was  welcome,"  answered  Barbara,  and  showed 
how  nearly  a  pretty  mouth  can  look  grim. 


420  The  Colonials 

Alice  recognised  in  Barbara  the  irreconcilable,  and 
for  the  first  time  in  months  felt  the  contact  with  that 
other  life  with  which  she  had  so  long  been  out  of  touch. 
Once  she  had  sympathised  with  the  Whigs,  and  had 
questioned  if  they  were  not  wronged.  Here,  with  a  girl 
who  welcomed  the  bombardment,  she  came  back  to  it 
again.  Alice  flushed,  and  looked  at  Barbara  with  sud- 
denly dilating  eyes. 

"  How  unchanged  you  are!  "  she  cried. 

"  And  you,"  returned  Barbara,  "  are  very  much 
changed  indeed.  You  are  not  the  girl  I  used  to  know. 
I  am  disappointed,  Alice  !  " 

Alice's  .generous  soul  was  at  once  ready  for  repent- 
ance. What  could  she  have  done?  Barbara  saw  her 
wonder. 

"  I  came  here,"  she  said,  "so  that  you  should  speak  to 
me." 

"  You  wished  to  tell  me  something?  "  asked  Alice. 

"  Frank  is  very  well,"  remarked  Barbara.  "  He  has 
been  absent  from  the  camp ;  but  he  is  well,  my  brother 
writes  me." 

"  Barbara  !  "  cried  Alice. 

"  That  is  what  I  came  to  say,"  said  Barbara.  "  And 
this  as  well.  Who  stands  there  waiting  for  you?" 

"  Tis  Captain  Sotheran,"  said  Alice. 

"  That  is  why  I  am  disappointed  in  you,"  declared 
Barbara. 

She  shot  the  words  out  energetically,  then  pressed  her 
lips  together,  challenging  reply.  Alice  felt  her  cheeks 
warm,  and  the  instinct  of  self-defence  rose  up  within 
her. 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  she  said. 

"  You  understand  me  perfectly,"  contradicted  Bar- 
bara. "  Excuse  me,  I  am  not  a  Londoner;  I  am  from 
the  provinces."  There  was  no  humility  in  her ;  she  said 


Retribution  42 1 

it  proudly.  "  But  if  you  wish  me  to  speak  more  clearly, 
I  will.  When  you  can  have  Frank,  you  take  that  man. 
And  he  is  bad !  " 

"  No !  "  cried  Alice. 

"  He  is  bad,"  affirmed  Barbara.  "  It  is  in  his  face. 
You  saw  it  once ;  you  are  used  to  it  now.  I  know  what 
I  am  saying.  He  is  bad." 

"  Barbara,"  said  Alice  hastily,  "  I  cannot  stay." 

"  Is  it  too  late  ?  "  asked  Barbara.  "  Is  he  so  much 
your  friend?  I  am  sorry.  But  let  me  say  one  word. 
Frank  Ellery  would  not  hate  a  worthy  rival.  And  he 
hates  your  cap-tain." 

Alice  stood  still,  her  face  turned  away  from  Barbara, 
but  her  shoulders  said,  "  go  on." 

"  We  never  spoke  of  him  but  once,"  said  Barbara, 
quickly  following  her  advantage.  "  I  asked  the  ques- 
tion: '  What  kind  of  man  is  Captain  Sotheran?  '  Frank 
looked  black,  and  this  is  what  he  said :  '  The  man  is  not 
fit  to  live.'  " 

Alice  still  stood  with  averted  face.  Barbara  came  a 
step  nearer. 

"  It  is  not  that  Frank  should  be  disappointed  in  love," 
she  said,  "  that  I  care.  I  know  it  is  not  so  very  hard. 
But  that  you  should  love  unworthily,  as  I — "  She 
paused. 

"  As  you,"  asked  Alice,  turning  on  her  quickly.  "  You 
mean — a  British  soldier?" 

Barbara  reddened.  "  Your  captain  is  waiting,"  she 
said,  and  fled. 


CHAPTER    II 

THE    ASPECT    OF    TRUTH 

Barbara,  repentant,  ran  to  Alice  that  afternoon,  beg- 
ging forgiveness.  She  was  forgiven  already;  Alice  was 
still  thinking  of  her  words.  But  Barbara's  softness  was 
toward  Alice  only,  and  when  Tudor  was  despatched  with 
her  to  see  her  safely  home,  he  met  discomfiture. 

Yet  he  started  with  her  gayly,  thinking  to  make  a 
good  impression.  "  I  fear,"  he  began  his  conversation, 
"  that  life  has  been  very  dull  for  you  this  winter." 

"  Not  at  all,"  Barbara  answered. 

"  But  you  must  have  had  little  to  do." 

"  I  never  was  busier,"  she  replied. 

"  But  so  many  of  your  friends  must  have  gone,"  per- 
sisted poor  Tudor. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Barbara. 

"  Do  you  not  wish  you  had  gone  with  them?  " 

"  I  could  not  have  gone  the  way  they  went,"  she  said. 

"How  did  they  go?"  he  asked  in  surprise. 

It  was  a  little  unkind  of  Barbara.  She  raised  her 
eyes  and  looked  into  his.  "  My  brother,"  she  said, 
'*  went  out  on  the  day  of  Concord  fight.  I  have  not  seen 
him  since.  Three  friends  went  with  him.  Four  more 
went  the  following  night,  in  boats.  Two  others  swam 
by  night  to  Lechmere's  Point,  before  the  week  was  out. 
I  could  not  go  in  any  of  those  ways,  sir." 

To  Tudor  her  eyes  were  cold  as  diamonds.  "  I  meant 
your  friends  among  the  young  ladies,"  he  stammered. 


Retribution  423 

"  Oh,"  she  said.  "  They  had  gone  long  before.  And 
your  general  denied  me  a  pass,  Captain  Tudor." 

She  was  waiting  for  his  reply.  He  made  the  mistake 
of  a  defence.  '  The  exigencies  of  war — "  he  began 
feebly. 

"  Yes,"  she  interrupted,  "  I  know  them  well.  You 
need  not  quote  them,  sir." 

He  was  distressed ;  she  saw  it  and  enjoyed  it.  She 
did  not  know  his  genuine  regret,  his  manly  sympathy 
with  the  hardships  of  the  Whigs,  and  when  with  hesita- 
tion he  tried  to  express  his  feeling,  she  mistook  it. 

"  Truly,"  he  said,  "  this  war  has  been  for  me  the  hard- 
est experience  of  my  life.  A  civil  strife " 

"  Why  then  did  you  come  ?  "  she  cried.  "  This  war 
was  foreseen.  Your  coming  hastened  it.  If  those  who 
profess  this  gentlemanly  sorrow  had  but  acted  like  Lord 
Effingham,  your  regiments  would  have  been  half  offi- 
cered, and  so  half  useless.  Yet  you  came  gayly.  Speak 
not  to  me  again  of  sympathy,  sir !  " 

Tudor  blinked  as  the  tiny  storm  broke  on  him.  Bar- 
bara's lightnings  scorched,  but  could  not  stun.  Yet  they 
confused,  and  his  honesty  lured  him  a  second  time  to 
excuse. 

"  Believe  me,"  he  said,  "  I  have  no  heart  in  this.  I 
dread  a  further  battle." 

"  Then  resign !  "  she  flashed,  and  marched  on,  her 
head  erect,  and  outraged  patriotism  in  every  movement 
of  her  little  body.  Thus  they  walked  on  till  they  reached 
her  gate,  where  they  bowed  and  curtseyed  formally,  glad 
at  heart  at  parting.  Barbara  went  directly  to  her  room, 
and  sat  for  a  while  without  candles,  until  with  a  sur- 
prise almost  as  great  as  her  disgust,  she  found  that 
tears  were  on  her  cheeks.  Tudor,  his  ears  stinging, 
went  aimlessly  away.  "Resign?"  he  thought.  Could 
he  never  forget  the  example  of  Lord  Effingham?  Must 


424  The  Colonials 

a  soldier  consider  his  private  opinions  ?  Was  there  any 
personal  duty  in  such  a  crisis?  To  forget  the  host  of 
questionings,  he  sought  the  coffee-house. 

But  Alice  sat  thinking  in  her  room.  She  had  begun 
with  Frank,  yet  her  thoughts  had  wandered  to  Sotheran. 
In  what  way  was  he  bad  ? 

It  was  the  secret  of  Sotheran's  success  with  Alice 
that  he  never  made  a  claim  which  required  substantia- 
tion. He  was  himself,  he  reposed  upon  that  fact,  and 
what  he  was  might  be  examined.  He  professed  no 
goodness,  even  in  his  reform.  When  asked  to  join  a 
game  of  loo,  she  had  heard  him  answer  simply :  "My 
dear  fellow,  I  have  lost  my  taste  for  that."  At  her  side 
in  church  he  was  not  fervently  devout,  but  the  deep 
murmur  of  his  responses  spoke  modestly  for  him.  All 
his  acts  were  unostentatious,  and  his  calm  dignity  gave 
the  same  assurance  to  his  virtues  that  it  had  lent  his 
former  dissipations. 

And  he  was  in  the  best  of  moods  to  bear  scrutiny. 
A  feeling  of  ease  was  on  him,  long  unknown  in  his  rest- 
less life.  Even  the  adventurer  who  enjoys  his  risks — 
and  Sotheran  was  such — grows  nerve-weary  with  con- 
tinual excitement.  The  long  bout  with  Ellery  had  kept 
the  captain  on  the  stretch.  It  was  the  keenest  he  had 
ever  played,  and  now  that  it  was  over  the  satisfaction  of 
winning  combined  with  the  relief  of  freedom  to  produce 
good  humour.  Ellery  had  missed  punishment,  but  his 
lot  was  miserable  enough,  and  as  the  captain  watched 
the  preparations  for  moving  Alice  to  Ellery's  very 
house,  it  seemed  as  if  the  Whig  were  being  set  to  guard 
Sotheran's  possessions.  It  was  amusing. 

On  the  following  day  he  helped  in  the  work  of  mov- 
ing, lending  Alice  his  servants.  With  Christine,  Alice 
packed  and  directed,  but  Sotheran  spared  her  the  jour- 
neys back  and  forth  from  house  to  house.  While  Tabb 


Retribution  425 

and  Roger  carried  bundles,  he  took  the  reception  of 
her  luggage  on  himself,  and  begged  her  to  wait  until 
she  should  see,  as  a  surprise,  how  comfortable  he  would 
make  her.  She  realised  how  much  he  saved  her,  and 
when  in  the  evening  the  accustomed  company  assembled 
at  her  cottage  for  the  last  time  before  Mrs.  Drew  should 
go  and  Alice  change  her  dwelling,  he  found  her  very 
grateful. 

But  she  was  tired,  and  Sotheran  perceived  it.  Master- 
ful as  ever,  he  gave  his  friends  the  signal  for  departure, 
and  lingered  for  a  moment  after  the  door  had  closed  on 
them. 

"  Rest  well,"  he  said. 

His  consideration  for  her  pleased  her;  he  appealed  to 
her  deeper  than  ever  before.  She  let  him  take  her 
hand  and  kiss  it.  Gentle  in  her  fatigue,  and  grateful  to 
him,  her  smile  lingered  on  him  as  she  went  up  the  stair. 

And  as  she  sat  in  her  dismantled  room,  thinking  once 
more  of  what  Barbara  had  said,  she  saw  no  evil  in  the 
captain.  The  question  was  simply  between  him  and 
Frank.  Which  was  she  to  choose?  She  mused  while 
Christine  combed  her  hair.  The  thought  of  Sotheran 
was  pleasant  to  her. 

But  when  Christine  spoke,  Alice  roused  herself.  "  It 
has  been  a  busy  day,  Mistress  Alice,"  said  the  maid. 
"  The  men-servants  have  worked  hard." 

"  Christine,"  said  Alice,  reminded  by  the  words.  "  I 
thought  you  seemed  to  speak  freely  to-day  with  Captain 
Sotheran's  man." 

"  We  are  good  friends,  ma'am,"  said  the  maid  de- 
murely. 

"  I  cannot  help  you  in  everything,"  went  on  Alice. 
"  There  are  a  good  many  times  when  you  are  alone.  I 
hope  you  will  remember  my  warnings  of  that  man — of 
all  men." 


426  The  Colonials 

"  Yes,  madam,"  said  Christine  dutifully.  The  mirror 
was  gone,  or  Alice  would  have  seen  the  expression  that 
crossed  the  servant's  face. 

"  And  you  do  not  look  well,"  continued  Alice.  "  Have 
you  anything  to  trouble  you  ?  This  morning  I  thought 
you  had  been  weeping." 

"  Weeping ! "  thought  Christine.  Ay,  the  night 
through.  But  she  hastened  to  answer.  "  Oh,  no 
madam,"  she  said.  "  I  am  very  happy." 


CHAPTER  III 

STAGES    OF    DRINK 

Not  Alice  alone  had  observed  Christine  and  Tabb 
that  day.  Roger,  helping  Tabb  carry  bundles,  had  kept 
open  his  eyes  and  ears.  The  boy  was  more  trusted  now, 
but  lived  no  comfortable  life,  since  he  had  no  friend. 
Frank  was  gone  from  town,  Nick  and  Pete  turned  a 
shoulder  when  they  met  in  the  street,  and  the  boy  was 
alone  among  disagreeable  sights  and  sounds.  But  he 
maintained  his  courage,  and  with  senses  alert  studied  all 
about  him. 

He  knew  too  much,  far  too  much,  of  the  world's 
wickedness.  Yet  it  had  not  spoiled  him,  and  with  the 
same  obstinacy  with  which  he  clung  to  his  political  be- 
liefs, he  kept  a  better  moral  standard  than  the  men 
about  him.  He  had  early  learned  the  fate  of  breakers 
of  the  laws  of  the  body,  and  observed  with  pity,  rather 
than  disgust,  the  lives  of  the  men  and  women  of  the 
camp. 

And  so,  when  on  that  afternoon  he  saw  Tabb  kiss 
Christine  behind  the  parlour  door,  he  felt  compassion 
for  the  girl  who,  with  her  pretty  face,  lacked  the 
strength  to  guard  herself.  He  had  not  been  often  to 
the  cottage,  and  in  ignorance  of  the  length  to  which 
the  two  had  gone  he  ventured,  when  he  and  Tabb  were 
on  the  streets,  to  plead  for  the  girl's  innocence. 

"  Let  her  alone,"  he  begged.  "  There  are  other 
women  enough." 


428  The  Colonials 

"  None  quite  so  nice,"  answered  Tabb,  with  a  laugh 
half  contented,  half  boastful. 

Roger  was  silent  for  a  minute.  "  The  poor  little 
dolt,"  he  thought,  keen  with  his  young  experience. 
"  A  country  girl  she  seems.  Tabb,"  he  said  aloud,  "  you 
know  the  end  of  such  a  one — the  camp." 

Tabb  gave  him,  sidewise,  an  uneasy  glance.  "  Why 
do  you  speak  of  her  ?  Let  be  ?  " 

"  Or  the  street,"  added  Roger.  "  Come,  Tabb,"  he 
pursued,  following  up  with  swift  understanding  the  im- 
pression he  saw  that  he  had  made;  "'tis  not  too  late. 
Have  mercy." 

He  looked  up  into  the  man's  face.  Roger  knew  his 
companion  well;  there  was  some  manhood  in  him. 
Swaggering  and  all  too  knowing,  Tabb  was  no  such 
rake  as  his  master,  pursuing  pleasure  for  its  own  sake, 
regardless  of  the  means.  He  was  completely  under 
Sotheran's  influence,  as  Roger  knew.  Admiration  of 
the  captain,  and  fear  of  his  powers,  made  him  a  willing 
tool.  But  in  personal  matters  he  was  easygoing,  and 
Roger,  looking  shrewdly  at  him,  thought  he  saw  the 
signs  of  self-reproach. 

"  Let  be,"  growled  Tabb  again. 

He  would  not  look  at  the  boy.  Roger,  meeting  no 
anger,  thought  to  reenforce  his  appeal  by  a  suggestion. 

"  If  you  should  harm  her,"  he  said,  "  the  captain 
would  be  angry." 

He  meant  Tudor;  but  Tabb  turned  on  him  with  a 
short,  harsh  laugh.  "  There  you  are  wrong!  "  he  cried, 
with  a  miserable  triumph  which  the  lad  perceived. 
"The  captain  ordered  it!" 

"Ordered  it?"  exclaimed  Roger;  then  he  under- 
stood. "  Our  captain,"  he  murmured. 

"  Ay,"  said  Tabb.    "  Plague  me  no  more.     No  " — as 


Retribution  429 

Roger  would  have  spoken  again — "  for  'tis  too  late,  I 
tell  you." 

In  surprise  Roger  was  silent.  Then  in  a  moment 
disgust  began  to  creep  over  him.  Why  should  the  cap- 
tain have  to  do  with  the  debauching  of  a  servant  maid? 
it  was  too  small,  too  mean!  He  glanced  repeatedly 
at  Tabb,  and  saw  that  the  man  walked  with  scowling 
face,  not  liking  the  thoughts  which  the  lad  had  sum- 
moned. There  was  conscience  in  him,  Roger  saw. 
Presently  Tabb  met  the  boy's  glance,  and  looking 
fiercely  at  him,  stopped  abruptly.  They  were  before  a 
public  house. 

"  I  am  going  in  here  a  moment,"  he  said.  "  Wait." 
He  put  his  bundle  at  the  lad's  feet  and  went  into  the 
inn.  When  he  returned  he  was  wiping  his  mouth,  and 
picking  up  his  bundle,  went  on  again,  not  waiting  to 
see  if  Roger  followed. 

"  If  he  took  gin  or  rum,"  thought  Roger,  going  after, 
"  he  will  be  boastful  soon." 

He  knew  the  steps  of  Tabb's  drunkenness,  as  well  as 
of  Sotheran's.  The  captain  with  each  glass  did  but 
become  more  hard  and  cruel,  and  was  never  overcome. 
Tabb  progressed  through  boastfulness  to  affection,  then 
to  a  short  stage  of  babbling  before  he  collapsed.  Roger 
had  often  thought  that  in  the  brief  tendency  to  confi- 
dence Tabb  might  betray  a  secret,  if  there  were  any  to 
conceal. 

Tabb  did  become  boastful  soon.  At  the  Ellery  house, 
whence  Sotheran  had  been  called  by  other  duties,  Tabb 
paused  before  he  left,  and  looking  around  the  hall, 
laughed  noisily. 

"  Ha!  "  he  said.  "  If  Frank  Ellery  knew  what  we  are 
doing!  " 

Anger  stirred  in  Roger  at  the  familiarity;  but  he  said 
nothing. 


430  The  Colonials 

"  And  if  the  lady  knew!  "  said  Tabb. 

Roger  controlled  himself.    "  She  does  know,"  he  said. 

"  Nay,"  and  Tabb  laughed  again.  "  She  knows  not 
all  I  know — more  than  you  know,  my  boy,"  he  leered; 
"  a  good  sight  more.  If  she  knew  what  I  could  tell — 
but  come  away.  There  is  more  to  do." 

And  as  they  passed  out  the  gate  Tabb  put  a  hand  on 
the  lad's  shoulder.  "  Secrecy,"  he  said  solemnly, 
"  secrecy  means  life  sometimes,  my  boy."  He  shook 
his  head  wisely,  then  fell  to  snickering. 

"  Is  there  a  secret?  "  thought  Roger.  "  Could  I  learn 
it?  "  He  wondered  how  he  should  go  about  it. 

"  Tabb,"  he  said,  when  they  reached  the  public 
house  on  their  return.  "  I  have  a  shilling  to  spend. 
Let's  get — "  He  gestured  at  the  door. 

"  Ay,"  answered  Tabb  affably,  and  turned  toward  the 
inn.  "No,  no!"  he  cried,  pausing.  "  'Tis  against 
orders;  you  must  not  drink." 

It  was  Sotheran's  strict  command  that  the  boy  should 
no  longer  be  allowed  liquor.  "  Xo!  "  added  Tabb  posi- 
tively; and  then  slyly,  as  Roger  showed  the  coin  already 
in  his  hand,  he  suggested:  "But  if  you  will  lend  the 
money  to  me,  I'll  make  it  up  to  ye  some  other  day." 

Roger  hesitatingly  offered  it.  "  If  you  take  too 
much!  "  he  warned. 

"  Never  fear,"  retorted  Tabb.  "  I've  no  such  weak 
head  as  yourself;  and  to  lose  no  time,  I'll  even  buy  a 
bottle." 

From  the  moment  when  Tabb  again  emerged  from 
the  tap-room,  more  deeply  primed,  and  with  his  bottle 
safe,  Roger  did  not  leave  his  elbow.  In  the  trips  back 
and  forth,  the  man's  moods  slowly  changed  to  the  affec- 
tionate. And  when  they  finished  their  task,  and  put 
down  their  last  bundles  in  the  Ellery  entry,  Tabb  sat 
down  on  the  settle. 


Retribution  43 1 

"  I  told  ye,"  he  said,  holding  up  the  bottle,  where  but 
a  few  swallows  of  the  strong  New  England  rum  re- 
mained, "  that  I  could  last  the  work  out.  Ah,  Roger," 
he  said  tenderly,  "  if  I  could  but  teach  you  how  to 
drink!  The  pleasure  that  you  lose!"  He  wagged  his 
head. 

"  I  know,"  said  Roger  regretfully. 

"  And  now,  when  I  sit  down  and  rest,"  said  Tabb, 
"  it  makes  me  remember  all  that  has  happened  to  me. 
Some  way,  to-day 

"Now!"  thought  Roger. 

But  Ann  appeared  before  them,  her  hands  upon  her 
hips.  "  Away  with  ye,"  she  cried,  "  if  your  work  is 
done.  Out  of  my  clean  house  with  your  dirty  feet,  you 
drunken  lout!  " 

"  Dear  old  girl,"  said  Tabb  critically. 

Roger  was  in  agony  lest  the  mood  should  be  lost. 
"  You  can't  stir  him,"  he  said  to  Ann.  "  Don't  you  see? 
Leave  me  to  manage  him." 

"  Get  out,  ye  loon!  "  repeated  Ann. 

"  Away  hag!  squaw!  "  mocked  Tabb.  "  Or  sit  down, 
pretty  maid,  and  listen.  I  will  tell  you  stories." 

"  Leave  him  to  me,"  urged  Roger.    "  Ann,  go." 

"  To  your  health!  "  cried  Tabb,  draining  his  bottle. 

Roger  fairly  pushed  Ann  to  the  dining-room.  "Go! 
go!  "  he  insisted;  and  whispered:  "  Ann,  it  is  important." 

She  doubtfully  withdrew.  Ann  was  not  pleased  with 
the  new  order  of  things.  Roger  returned  quickly  to 
Tabb. 

"  Come,"  said  Tabb,  "  sit  here  by  my  side,  Roger.  I 
get  to  thinking — what  was  I  thinking?  " 

"  Of  Christine,"  suggested  Roger. 

"  Poor  Christine!  "  sighed  Tabb.  "  And  yet  I  vow  I 
love  the  wench."  He  shook  his  head.  "  She's  plaguing 


432  The  Colonials 

me  to  marry  her.  If  it  weren't  for  the  captain  I  would 
do  it,  for  I  hate  to  see  her  cry;  but  he  forbids  it." 

So,  thought  Roger.  He  pressed  Tabb's  elbow.  "  But 
Tabb — the  captain — why?  " 

"Ah!"  smirked  Tabb.  "That's  a  secret.  There's 
a  purpose.  Only  the  captain  and  I  know;  but  Frank 
Ellery  would  understand." 

"  Not  Mistress  Tudor?  " 

"  Nay,  for  though  she  knows,  she  doesn't  know. 
There's  a  riddle  for  you:  Wha,t  does  Mistress  Tudor 
know  and  not  know? "  Tabb  nodded  reflectively. 
'''  There  was  an  old  man  knew,"  he  added,  "  but  the 
captain  killed  him." 

"  Killed  him?"  echoed  Roger. 

"  With  a  knife.  The  captain  ay  was  quick.  So  no- 
body knows,  only  the  captain,  Frank  Ellery,  and  me." 

Roger  was  in  the  dark.  Tabb  was  speaking  distinctly, 
but  drowsily,  and  the  lad  feared  he  would  sink  into  the 
sleep  that  always  ended  his  potations.  Roger  jogged 
him. 

"Nobody  else?" 

Tabb  was  thinking.  "  So  strange,"  he  murmured 
sentimentally.  "She  such  a  slip  of  a  girl;  and  look 
at  her  now!  " 

"  Did  nobody  else  know?  "  insisted  Roger. 

"  Only  an  Indian,"  answered  Tabb.  "He's  dead,  too." 
He  shook  his  head.  "  What  a  grand  lady  she's  be- 
come! " 

"  An  Indian,"  thought  Roger.  He  knew  the  story  of 
the  forest  tragedy,  as  Ann  had  told  it  to  him,  herself 
having  learned  it  from  Frank's  lips.  An  Indian,  and 
an  old  man  killed  with  a  knife !  Alice  knew,  and  did  not 
know!  He  turned  to  Tabb. 

"  Tabb,  how  do  you  know?  " 

Tabb  was  beginning  to  doze,  slipping  down  farther 


Retribution  433 

on  the  settle,  his  face  set  with  the  look  of  one  who  re- 
calls a  picture.  Roger  pushed  his  shoulder. 

"  Tabb,  how  do  you  know?  " 

The  answer  came  faintly  but  distinctly:  "Wasn't  I 
there?" 

Roger  was  cold  with  sudden  excitement.  What  was 
this?  But  he  lost  no  time.  "The  captain?"  he  asked. 

Tabb  made  no  response.  Roger  seized  him  by  the 
arms  and  shook  him.  "Was  the  captain  there?" 

He  listened  eagerly  for  the  response.  Tabb  roused. 
"Ay,  ay,"  he  said,  with  feeble  good-nature;  "but  'tis 
a  secret.  The  captain  would  kill —  He  sank  into 
sleep,  and  Roger,  pale,  but  with  eyes  bright  as  steel, 
stood  over  him. 

He  had  a  secret,  greater  than  he  had  dreamed  to  find. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE    ELLERY    LIBRARY 

Alice  sat  in  the  Ellery  library,  before  the  fire.  That 
day,  for  the  second  time  in  her  life,  she  had  entered 
the  house.  What  had  Sotheran  been  thinking  of  to 
bring  her  there?  Did  he  realise,  she  wondered,  how 
closely  that  mansion  was  connected  with  the  imaginings 
of  her  girlhood?  She  had  thought  of  Frank,  and 
nothing  but  Frank,  since  she  had  entered. 

The  portals  had  seemed  to  loom  over  her  like  the  risen 
past,  and  draw  her  in.  The  dusky  hall,  the  old  carved 
furniture,  made  her  ask  herself  where  were  the  owners 
of  that  house.  She  had  stood  a  moment  shrinking,  al- 
most expecting  Frank  and  Dickie  to  appear.  In  going 
to  her  room  she  had  stolen  a  glance  at  Frank's  door  as 
she  passed.  It  was  shut,  and  its  blank  surface  was  elo- 
quent of  the  former  years  when  that  room  was  empty, 
and  Frank  was  far  away — saving  her.  Her  room  was 
Dickie's,  decorated  with  all  the  care  and  taste  that 
Sotheran  could  give  it;  but  the  picture  that  hung  over 
the  mantel  was  of  Frank's  mother,  looking  at  her  with 
Frank's  eyes.  The  picture  had  hung  in  Frank's  room, 
and  Alice  had  wondered,  as  it  repeatedly  arrested  her 
gaze,  how  often  Frank  had  stood  looking  at  it. 

And  at  supper,  when  Ann  served  at  the  table  sulkily, 
Alice  had  remembered  the  little  servant's  devotion  to 
Frank.  Mr.  Ellery's  cringing  manner  inevitably  re- 
called his  nephew's  uprightness.  And  when  at  last  she 


Retribution  435 

sat  alone  in  the  library,  the  three  figures  on  the  walls 
were  like  ancestors  of  her  own,  knitting  her  to  Frank. 

Her  brother  came  from  an  interview  with  Ellery. 
"  Alice,"  he  said,  "  I  have  suddenly  recollected  an  en- 
gagement which  I  forgot  when  I  told  Henry  to  come 
here  for  me.  He  will  not  be  here  for  half  an  hour. 
Will  you  tell  him  that  I  had  to  go,  and  that  I  will  meet 
him  later  at  the  coffee-house?  " 

With  Frank  so  occupying  her  mind,  she  did  not  wish 
to  see  Sotheran.  "  I  will  ask  Christine  or  Ann  to  tell 
him,"  she  answered.  "  You  go  at  once? " 

"Yes,"  he  replied;  and  kissed  her  good  night 

Alone  again,  she  seemed  alone  with  Frank.  In  that 
house  all  thoughts  led  to  him.  To  think  of  Dickie  was 
no  escape,  since  it  reminded  her  how  Frank's  influence, 
reaching  his  brother  through  the  widest  separation,  had 
drawn  him  to  his  side  and  now  held  him  there.  Frank's 
persistent  strength  was  to  be  marvelled  at. 

And  as  she  sat,  her  lover  seemed  to  fill  the  room  with 
his  personality.  Her  lover?  Yes.  His  love  was  hers; 
she  had  seen  it  in  his  eyes;  she  had  heard  it  in  his  voice. 
"  Never  dream  that  I  forget!  "  And  she — had  she  not 
forgotten?  Shame  again,  but  this  time  shame  for  her 
inconstancy,  reddened  her  cheeks.  Yes,  Frank  himself 
seemed  to  be  there  in  the  room ;  silent,  as  his  habit  now 
was — but  not  as  formerly.  Ah,  those  old-time  con- 
fidences! 

The  room  was  deepening  in  dusk,  but  the  fire  was 
bright;  and  in  its  turn  it  spoke  to  her  of  other  fires 
years  ago — the  fires  of  the  cabin  in  the  woods.  She 
saw  in  the  flames  the  interior  of  the  cabin — Aneeb  upon 
his  bed,  bright-eyed  Mukkwah,  the  boy  Kewadin,  and 
old,  wrinkled  Xetnokwa.  She  saw  the  pelts  dangling 
from  the  ceiling,  the  skins  stretched  upon  the  walls. 
She  saw  herself,  a  girl  with  braided  hair,  dressed  in 


436  The  Colonials 

deerskin.  And  she  saw  Frank,  smiling,  watching  her, 
her  instructor  and  protector. 

What  a  protector  he  had  been!  To  gain  her  from 
Aneeb,  to  save  her  from  the  lieutenant  (artd  she  shud- 
dered), to  follow,  follow  through  the  woods!  The  finger 
of  God  had  pointed  him  the  way.  How  he  had  main- 
tained them!  How  he  had  fought  against  the  Chip- 
pewa!  And  how,  through  that  famished  march,  with 
patient  woodcraft,  he  had  kept  them  both  alive  until 
they  reached  Detroit! 

Yes,  she  had  loved  him  worthily.  Did  she  not  love 
him  still?  What  of  his  later  acts,  and  of  his  silence? 
He  believed  rebellion  right — and  was  it  not?  His  silence 
was  enforced.  But  he  loved  her.  Then 

She  rose  suddenly  and  paced  the  room,  avoiding  the 
conclusion.  Again  she  began — again  she  thought  of  her 
life,  again  she  enumerated  her  debts  to  him,  again  she 
paused  before  the  situation.  She  had  loved  him;  he 
loved  her;  then 

Save  for  the  firelight,  the  room  was  dark;  but  in  the 
wavering  light  she  still  felt  the  presence  of  her  lover, 
and  knew  that  he  was  taking  possession  of  her.  She  had 
not  thought  of  Sotheran  once;  she  had  not  compared. 
It  was  as  if  the  new  had  never  been,  while  the  Ellery 
house,  with  all  its  memories,  brought  back  the  old. 
Slowly  the  struggle  lessened.  She  caught  herself  smil- 
ing, feeling  that  she  could  not  be  seen.  She  came  again 
to  the  insistent  question,  and  avoided  it  once  more. 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door.  "  Come  in,"  she 
called,  relieved  at  the  interruption;  and  turned  to  light 
the  candles. 

It  was  Ann.  With  a  hard  face  she  said :  "  There  is 
Captain  Sotheran's  boy  to  see  you." 

"  If  there  is  a  message  or  a  note,  ask  him  for  it," 


Retribution  437 

directed  Alice.  She  looked  at  Ann,  and  knew  why  she 
was  so  sullen.  It  was  for  Frank — still  Frank! 

"  He  must  see  you,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Then  send  him  in." 

Roger  came.  She  had  never  seen  him  close  at  hand 
before.  He  entered  cautiously  and  closed  the  door, 
looking  about  the  room. 

"  Is  any  one  here?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,"  she  said. 

"Mr.  Ellery?" 

"  He  is  upstairs." 

"Christine,"  the  lad  suggested;  "where  is  she?" 

"  She  is  in  her  room.    What  is  it,  boy? " 

"  Then  I  will  tell,"  he  said  eagerly. 

Alice  listened  to  a  story  that  made  her  cold  and 
breathless.  That  that  man,  the  vilest  that  had  ever 
crossed  a  woman's  path,  was  alive,  and  was — Sotheran! 
But  it  could  not  be  true;  and  her  face  flushed  with 
indignation. 

"  The  proof  of  this?  "  she  cried  at  the  end. 

"  I  believe  it." 

"  I  would  have  recognised  him,"  she  said. 

"  Not  so,"  he  answered  shrewdly.  "  Master  Dickie 
did  not  know  his  brother,  thinking  him  dead." 

Alice  was  silent;  she  had  seen  the  man  fall,  and 
thought  him  killed.  She  looked  down  into  the  boy's 
face.  It  was  pale  and  much  too  keen,  but  there  was 
honesty  in  tke  eyes. 

"  Why  do  you  betray  your  master?  "  she  demanded. 

"  He  is  hard  and  cruel,"  he  replied.    "  He  is  bad!  " 

"  It  is  revenge,"  she  said,  drawing  back. 

"No,"  he  said;  "it  is  for  Master  Frank.  Madam,  if 
you  but  knew  him — so  good,  so  kind!  " 

"  That  will  do,"  she  said,  stopping  him.  Was  every- 
one in  the  house  an  advocate  of  Frank?  "  You  may  go. 


438  The  Colonials 

Captain  Sotheran  comes  soon;  I  will  ask  him  if  it  is 
true." 

"  Ask  him?  "  Roger  cried  in  surprise.  "  Do  you  dare? 
He  is  strong — bold." 

"  Go,"  she  repeated.    "  I  will  ask  him." 

Roger  withdrew  in  fear.  The  lady  was  lovely,  and 
she  was  for  Master  Frank;  but  Sotheran's  rage  might 
lead  him  any  length.  If  anything  should  happen! 
Roger  hastened  from  the  room;  he  must  tell  Nick  and 
Pete. 


CHAPTER  V 

SURPRISAL 

The  portraits  centred  their  gaze  on  Alice  as  she  sat, 
with  sunken  head,  waiting  for  Sotheran.  In  her  breast 
struggled  the  changes  of  indignation  and  doubt,  and 
flushes  came  and  went  upon  her  face.  Was  the  boy's 
charge  true?  But  true  or  not,  the  accusation  was  test- 
ing her  regard  for  Sotheran.  If  she  could  even  suspect 
him,  he  did  not  hold  her  heart. 

She  strove  to  recall  the  lieutenant  of  the  woods,  in 
voice  and  feature.  Physical  likeness  to  Sotheran  she 
could  perceive;  the  man  had  been  tall  and  graceful.  But 
the  face,  seen  but  for  a  little  while,  and  then  charged 
with  a  strange,  eager  passion,  as  was  the  voice,  seemed 
different  from  Henry's.  And  the  aspect  of  it  which 
she  best  remembered  was  his  repulsive  visage  as  he  fell, 
his  features  livid,  streaked  with  blood.  That  was  the 
face  she  thought  of  when  she  thought  of  him,  and  which 
had  disturbed  her  earlier  dreams.  There  was  no  like- 
ness there  to  Sotheran,  calm  and  elegant. 

The  knocker  thundered  at  the  outer  door,  and  Mr. 
Ellery  came  downstairs. 

"  If  it  is  a  visitor?  "  he  asked  deferentially. 

"  If  it  is  Captain  Sotheran,"  she  answered,  "  I  will  see 
him  here  alone." 

Mr.  Ellery  opened  the  door.  Then  Alice  heard  Soth- 
eran's  voice.  The  front  door  shut;  she  heard  Mr.  El- 
lery go  upstairs  again.  She  knew  that  Sotheran  stood 


440  The  Colonials 

on  the  threshold,  and  could  not  bring  herself  to  rise 
and  turn  to  him.  She  sat  still. 

He  came  a  step  nearer  to  her,  but  she  did  not  move. 
He  saw  the  colour  in  her  cheeks;  surely  she  had  heard 
him.  This  was  his  moment;  he  had  long  been  prepared 
for  it.  He  came  still  nearer;  and  when,  unable  to  bear 
the  strain  longer,  she  turned  her  head,  he  was  kneeling 
on  one  knee,  his  hands  outstretched. 

He  was  a  picture,  an  ideal  soldier,  wonderfully  hand- 
some in  his  uniform  and  powdered  hair.  His  dark  eyes 
glowed  upon  her;  he  murmured  "  Alice!  "  Any  woman 
might  be  proud  of  such  a  conquest,  such  a  lover;  and 
she,  having  but  this  moment  doubted  him,  felt  self- 
reproach.  But  she  must  know  the  truth.  She  could  not 
smile  nor  welcome  him,  but  looked  upon  him  strangely 
as  she  rose. 

"  Henry,"  she  said,  "  come  nearer/' 

He  rose  and  approached  her.  "  Alice,"  he  responded 
simply,  "  I  love  you." 

She  dropped  her  eyes  as  she  heard  a  tremour  in  his 
voice.  He  seemed  so  true  that  she  hesitated  to  put  her 
question.  She  was  troubled,  and  showed  it  in  her  face. 

"  Henry,"  she  said,  "  first  answer  me." 

"  Willingly,"  he  replied. 

She  raised  her  eyes  again.  It  was  not  in  her  to  use 
artifice.  But  though  doubt  was  fleeing,  her  natural 
simplicity  was  better  than  the  cleverest  device  to  sur- 
prise him. 

"  It  was  not  you,"  she  asked,  holding  his  glance  with 
hers,  "  to  whom  Frank  Ellery  trusted  me  in  the 
woods?  " 

He  was  not  on  guard.  The  truth,  the  abominable 
truth,  leaped  from  his  eyes.  Anger  followed  it.  Then 
he  was  calm,  and  was  ready  to  deny.  But  she  raised 
her  hand. 


Retribution  441 

"Henry!"  she  exclaimed,  and  shrank  before  the 
revelation. 

It  was  he!  For  an  instant  she  had  seen  again  the 
distorted  countenance.  The  sight,  sudden  and  odious, 
was  like  a  blow,  and  she  all  but  staggered.  Yet  she 
bore  up,  and  still  looked  him  in  the  face. 

But  he,  seeing  his  complete  unveilment,  lost  his  self- 
control.  His  glance  fell.  For  a  moment  he  could  not 
face  her;  for  an  instant  she  saw  his  shoulders  quiver. 
His  hands  clenched;  his  teeth  were  set.  He  stood  look- 
ing at  the  floor.  Then  with  an  effort  he  raised  his  head. 
Shame  passed — the  only  honest  shame  he  ever  felt — 
and  he  met  her  eyes. 

"  I  will  repay,"  he  said. 

"Repay!"  she  cried. 

"  I  offer  to  marry  you." 

"Repay?"  she  repeated.  "Will  you  give  back  the 
lives  of  those  Indians,  my  friends?  Will  you  restore 
the  old  man  Benjy  to  his  sister,  who  lives  here  in  this 
house?  You  slew  him  with  your  hand.  Will  you  give 
me  my  father?  The  long  waiting  killed  him.  Repay!  " 

She  had  thrown  the  rags  of  his  character  in  his  face. 
Not  all  his  insolence  could  uphold  him  against  her 
denunciation,  and  for  a  moment  he  could  not  answer. 
But  once  more  he  commanded  himself,  and  sought  to 
retain  what  ground  he  could. 

"  Be  reasonable,"  he  said. 

She  made  no  audible  answer,  but  he  saw  her  iips 
repeat  his  words;  and  her  eyes  burned  him. 

"  The  past  is  past,"  he  urged.  "  Nothing  can  be 
done.  Let  us  be  sensible." 

Still  she  looked  at  him,  unchanging,  and  he  saw  that 
the  moment  was  passing  in  which  his  words  might  move 
her.  Abruptly  he  turned  from  reasoning  to  pleading. 

"  Alice,"  he  cried,  stretching  out  his  arms,  "  I  admit 


442  The  Colonials 

everything.  I  was  a  brute;  I  have  been  a  coward;  but 
I  was  not  myself.  God  knows  that  I  regret  it;  but  I 
dared  not  confess.  Alice,"  he  begged,  "  I  was  weak, 
but  I  was  not  deliberate.  Forgive.  Let  me  atone,  as 
far  as  I  can!  " 

He  seemed  to  pause  for  breath,  so  had  his  words 
shaken  him.  For  a  single  instant  she  hesitated.  But 
then  he  looked  at  her  keenly,  to  mark  his  effect;  and 
she  saw. 

"Contemptible!"  she  said. 

Then,  like  the  wise  man  that  he  was,  he  recognised 
his  end.  His  pride  came  to  his  aid,  and  shamed  him 
that  he  stooped  there  begging.  He  stood  upright,  and 
reared  his  head. 

"  Well,"  he  asked  haughtily,  "  and  now  what?  " 

She  recoiled.  His  voice  was  harsh,  his  manner  bold; 
he  eyed  her — her,  a  woman — with  a  sneer.  This  was 
the  real  man!  She  started  away  from  this  disclosure, 
more  terrifying  than  the  first.  The  chair  came  under 
her  hand;  she  seized  and  clung  to  it,  looking  at  him 
with  widening  eyes.  She  saw  his  evil  nature  to  its 
depths. 

"Well?"  he  demanded  with  disdain. 

"Oh,  go!"  she  breathed. 

"  No,"  he  said;  and  folded  his  arms.    "  I  stay." 

Her  courage  came  to  her.  She  raised  her  head  to 
front  his  own,  and  met  his  sneer  with  scorn. 

"  This  is  you?  "  she  asked. 

She  struck  beneath  his  armour,  and  he  struggled 
with  chagrin.  For  a  moment  his  face  worked,  but  he 
composed  it. 

"  You  will  not  tell,"  he  said.  "  It  will  not  be  wise  to 
tell." 

She  answered  nothing,  but  she  looked  the  question, 
"  Why?  " 


Retribution  443 

"  Because,"  he  went  on,  slowly  and  incisively,  "  your 
brother  would  insist  on  fighting  me." 

She  flamed  on  him  with  glorious  contempt.  "  Cow- 
ard! "  she  said,  and  stood  panting. 

"  Self-preservation,"  he  answered  calmly. 

"  Self!  self!  "  she  retorted  on  him. 

"  But  you  understand,"  he  said.  He  saw  her  shrink 
as  she  felt  his  hold  upon  her.  "  So  you  will  not  tell. 
And  understand,  when  we  meet  in  public  it  will  not  be 
expedient  for  you  to  break  with  me ;  else  George  would 
enquire  why." 

"  I  have  rejected  you,"  she  said,  her  bosom  heaving. 

Her  beauty  smote  him,  and  for  an  instant  he  clenched 
his  teeth  as  he  realised  his  defeat.  Then  he  rejoined : 

"  Xot  so,  for  it  does  not  please  me  to  have  it  so.  I 
shall  attend  you  as  before.  George  might  otherwise 
think  that  we  had  quarrelled,  and  feel — insulted." 

He  watched  to  see  her  shrink  again.  But  her  shock 
had  passed.  She  stood  immovable,  splendid  in  grace, 
and  with  eyes  that  burned.  He  spoke  again: 

"And  you  are  not  to  leave  this  place  for  London; 
that  would  not  suit  me.  And  if  you  do,  I  shall  give  out 
that  I  have  jilted  you,  at  which  George  would  be  angry. 
Do  you  understand?  " 

"  I  understand,"  she  said,  "  both  your  words  and 
you." 

There  was  no  submission  in  her.  Gentle  as  he  had 
believed  her,  her  courage  was  a  surprise,  and  he  began 
to  realise  her  reserve  of  force. 

"You  agree?"  he  asked. 

"  You  shall  be  punished,"  she  returned. 

Even  as  he  had  stood  dictating  terms,  his  anger,  like 
the  lava,  had  been  working  into  liquid  heat  and  swelling 
to  an  overflow.  His  was  a  primal  nature,  veneered 
with  manner,  restrained  by  public  force,  but  brutal  at 


444  The  Colonials 

the  bottom,  and  to  a  hurt  he  knew  but  a  single  answer — 
revenge.  He  had  meant  to  overawe  and  conquer  Alice. 
But  now  she  defied — nay,  she  threatened.  Fury  seized 
him. 

Only  one  man  that  had  ever  bearded  him  had  failed 
death  at  his  sword's  point.  Should  he  spare  a  woman? 
The  issue  here  was  more  than  a  mere  insult.  It  was  his 
life — his  way  of  life — or  hers;  for  he  saw  resolution  in 
her  face;  he  knew  the  signs  of  courage  well.  He  never 
could  persuade  her  now;  she  was  against  him  forever. 
To  save  her  brother  she  would  wait  long,  but  soon  or 
late  Sotheran  would  be  exposed.  And  then  he  saw  him- 
self an  outcast,  compelled  to  leave  his  country,  and  as 
adventurer,  or  a  soldier  in  a  foreign  country,  living  to 
an  exile's  end.  Never  would  he  give  up! 

And  he  must  have  Alice!  The  lava  boiled  like  water 
as  he  looked  upon  her  beauty.  This  was  his  true  self, 
loving  like  a  fiend,  without  respect  or  knowledge  of  the 
wonderful  thing  he  craved.  Strange  love!  Love  de- 
structive, not  preservative;  tyrannous,  not  pleading; 
crushing,  not  sustaining;  love  into  which  hate  had  curi- 
ously crept. 

For  she  opposed  him;  and  whatever  opposed  he  must 
hate.  The  two  passions  knit  in  him  together;  they 
shook  him.  This  was  not  thought;  the  foresight  which 
always  had  directed  him,  the  composure  which  was  his 
greatest  strength,  were  lost  in  the  rush  of  upheaved 
emotions.  No,  this  was  not  thought,  but  instinct — the 
instinct  of  the  brute  to  strike  for  safety,  the  impulse  of 
lower  man  to  enforce  his  desires.  Hate  and  love — the 
two  passions  which,  when  linked,  have  torn  down  em- 
pires— were  they  to  pause  before  a  girl?  They  bent 
and  burned  him,  they  demolished  every  barrier  of  self- 
restraint,  and  in  a  flood  the  lava  overflowed.  Suddenly 
he  turned,  took  one  stride  to  the  door,  and  closed  it. 


CHAPTER  VI 

IN    COLD    BLOOD 

Alice  faced  the  captain.  He  was  calm  now,  but  pale, 
and  with  eyes  agleam.  Even  in  her  agitation  she  noticed 
their  strange  light.  It  was  cold,  like  the  unwinking 
scrutiny  of  that  panther  which  she  had  once  met  when 
with  Frank  in  the  woods. 

"  Alice,"  he  said.  His  voice  was  strained,  and  she 
saw  him  moisten  his  dry  lips. 

"  Captain  Sotheran,"  she  answered,  "  pray  stand  aside 
and  let  me  leave  the  room." 

"  Let  us  stay  here,"  he  said. 

She  caught  at  the  bell-rope  and  pulled  it  strongly, 
gazing  at  him  without  further  words. 

It  was  Christine  who  came  from  the  kitchen.  Soth- 
eran let  her  in  and  shut  the  door  behind  her. 

"  Christine,"  said  Alice,  "  Mr.  Ellery  is  in  his  room. 
Will  you  ask  him  to  step  here  at  once?" 

Christine  turned.    "  Stay,"  said  Sotheran. 

The  servant  looked  at  him.  In  her  eyes  was  fear; 
she  knew  he  was  master  of  her  fate.  Dared  she,  some 
time,  but  plead  to  him! 

"  Who  is  in  the  kitchen?  "  he  asked. 

"  Ann  and  Tabb." 

"  No  one  else?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Christine,"  said  Sotheran  slowly,  "  do  you  wish  to 
marrv  Tabb?" 


446  The  Colonials 

Hope  leaped  to  her  eyes.  Since  the  knowledge  of  the 
consequences  of  her  disgrace,  had  she  not  begged  Tabb 
constantly?  Lively  to  please  him,  affectionate  to  soften 
him,  piteous  to  touch  him  (ah,  her  ineffective  arts!), 
she  had  but  learned  that  his  master  swayed  him. 

"  Oh,  sir!  "  she  gasped. 

"  Do  not  go  to  Mr.  Ellery,"  he  directed.  "  Return 
to  the  kitchen.  Tell  Tabb  not  to  allow  the  old  woman 
to  answer  the  bell." 

The  maid  looked  at  Alice,  hesitating. 

"  Go,"  commanded  Sotheran.  "  You  shall  marry 
Tabb." 

He  opened  the  door,  and  Christine,  with  drooping 
head,  slipped  out.  Alice  might  have  screamed,  and 
perhaps  Mr.  Ellery  would  have  heard  her.  But  she  was 
horrified  at  the  treachery.  Sotheran  closed  the  door 
and  locked  it. 

"  Mr.  Ellery  cannot  hear,"  he  said.  "  The  shutters 
are  closed;  no  one  can  hear  from  outside.  Let  us  talk." 

But  he  could  not  speak  easily,  for  as  he  looked  at 
her,  meaning  to  overlord  her,  the  power  of  her  per- 
sonality seized  him.  Her  horror  passed;  she  said  no 
word,  but  with  dilating  nostrils  and  haughty  head  faced 
him  as  she  would  have  faced  alone  that  wild  beast  of 
the  wood.  Her  eyes  demanded  his  purpose. 

His  throat  was  clogged;  he  coughed  to  clear  it;  and 
advancing  with  an  attempt  at  his  customary  assurance, 
offered  her  a  chair.  She  waved  it  aside. 

She  was  magnificently  defiant,  and  the  heart  which 
no  one  but  she  had  ever  touched  moved  suddenly  with 
its  only  affection;  and  to  his  surprise  something  not 
understood  rose  up  within  him.  How  should  he  know 
that  emotion?  It  was  reluctance  to  destroy.  He,  the 
pitiless,  the  calculating,  gave  an  unforeseen  answer. 

"Your  promise;  only  your  promise  to  marry  me." 


Retribution  447 

"  I  scorn  you! "  she  said. 

But  now,  checking  the  rush  of  anger,  the  strange 
emotion  grew  stronger;  and  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life  the  man  within  him  rose,  to  wrestle  with  the  brute. 
Never  had  he  done  as  now;  not  once  had  man  or  woman 
made  him  pause.  But  it  was  she — she  herself — who 
now  brought  him  to  his  knees. 

"  Alice,"  he  cried,  almost  wildly,  as  he  cast  himself 
before  her,  "think  what  you  do!  Do  not  force  me  to 
it!  Promise!" 

A  strange  appeal  that  was,  for  her  own  sake  to  save 
him  from  himself.  She  realised,  as  he  held  out  shak- 
ing hands,  the  passion  which  he  was  restraining,  and 
knew  that,  once  released,  it  would  destroy  her  as  a  fire. 
But  she  did  not  fear.  Pity  gave  the  impulse  to  her 
change  of  mood,  and  she  answered  more  gently,  as  one 
directs  a  headstrong  child: 
•  "  Henry,  go  away." 

"But  your  promise!"  he  cried,  stretching  his  arms 
toward  her. 

"  Do  not  touch  me!  "  she  screamed,  starting  back. 

Her  cry  swept  all  restraint  away.  He  rose  and  moved 
his  shoulders  as  if  to  cast  his  mercy  off.  "  So,"  he  said, 
"  you  hate  me?  " 

He  was  his  wicked  self  again;  the  one  good  impulse 
of  his  life  had  spent  its  force.  There  was  no  softness 
in  him  now;  and  Alice,  thinking  rapidly,  asked  herself: 
"The  door?  No.  The  window?  " 

"Answer!  "  he  cried,  striding  toward  her. 

She  retreated  toward  the  window,  keeping  her  eyes 
upon  his  face.  She  was  still  calm,  but  his  fury  was  al- 
most at  its  outburst,  and  she  saw  no  help. 

"Answer!"  he  repeated,  striking  the  table  with  his 
fist. 

She  stopped;  she  would  die  there  where  she  stood; 


448  The  Colonials 

she  would  make  him  kill  her.  Ancestral  courage  came ; 
she  faced  him  with  a  look,  a  blaze  of  fearlessness  that 
made  him  pause. 

But  she — she  saw!  The  very  wall  was  opening  be- 
hind the  captain;  a  homespun  figure,  tall,  thin,  tense  for 
a  struggle,  already  was  within  the  room.  She  saw  the 
angry  eyes,  the  knotted  fist,  the  oaken  cudgel.  A  single 
stride,  and  the  ropemaker  was  at  the  captain's  back.  A 
little  woman,  creeping  after,  closed  the  cavity. 

The  captain  knew  only  that  the  eye  that  had  com- 
manded him  had  shifted  its  gaze.  He  thought  he  had 
outfaced  her,  and  sneered: 

"You  yield?" 

She  smiled;  and  he  heard  the  step  behind  him.  He 
whirled,  his  hand  upon  his  sword.  There  stood  Pete, 
and  behind  him  Ann.  The  cudgel  was  raised. 

"  Draw!  "  Pete  cried. 

It  was  death  to  draw.  The  captain  pushed  the  weapon 
back. 

"  Brute!  "  said  Pete.  "Coward!  The  wealth  of  Han- 
cock for  one  blow  at  you!  Throw  down  the  sword!  " 

He  was  restraining  himself  with  difficulty;  the  cap- 
tain knew  it  wiser  to  obey.  He  unhooked  the  sword 
and  laid  the  weapon  down.  Pete  kicked  it  to  one  side. 

"  Flush,  do  ye? "  cried  the  man.  "  Do  I  soil  the 
sword?  'Tis  you  who  most  disgrace  it.  Now,  one  word 
before  you  go:  Try  this  again,  and  'tis  your  death." 

The  captain  resumed  his  manner,  brushed  down  his 
sleeves,  shook  out  his  ruffles.  He  stood  as  if  he  were 
alone.  Pete  laughed. 

"Ah,  but  you  hear,"  he  said;  "else  why  work  the 
muscles  in  your  cheek?  So,  Captain,  try  it  not  again; 
for,  day  or  night,  wherever  the  lady  goes,  there  will  be 
ropemakers  within  call.  At  the  assembly,  at  the  church, 
upon  the  street,  men  of  mine  shall  follow  her,  and  wait 


Retribution  449 

where  she  can  cry  to  them.  They  shall  sleep  in  this 
house — Frank  Ellery's  men.  So,  you  did  hear." 

For  the  captain's  fists  had  clenched.  Pete  laughed. 
"  Go,  Ann,"  he  said.  "  See  if  the  fellow  in  the  kitchen 
yet  can  move.  Bring  him  here;  and  tell  the  girl  she'd 
best  be  leaving." 

Ann  went  to  the  door.  Sotheran,  watching,  saw  that 
she  unlocked  it.  The  key  had  not  been  disturbed.  He 
looked  involuntarily  along  the  walls,  solid  with  their 
bookcases.  Pete  laughed  again. 

"  How  came  we  in?  "  he  said.    "  Ay,  tell  me  that!  " 

Ann  returned,  driving  before  her  Tabb,  who,  stagger- 
ing and  reeling,  pressed  his  handkerchief  to  a  bloody 
forehead,  and  seemed  but  just  recovered  from  a  daze. 

"  Go  now,"  said  Pete.  He  stepped  back  from  the 
captain.  "  Pick  up  that  sword,  you  fellow.  Follow 
your  master  out." 

Had  there  been  chance,  the  captain  would  still  have 
resisted.  But  Pete  was  there  with  ready  cudgel;  dig- 
nity alone  could  cover  the  retreat.  Looking  at  none 
of  them,  walking  as  if  he  spurned  the  place,  Sotheran 
passed  to  the  front  door,  which  Ann  held  open.  Tabb 
tottered  after  with  the  sword.  A  moment,  and  the  great 
door  clanged  behind  them. 

Then  Alice,  bewildered,  the  horror  not  yet  past,  felt 
Ann's  hard  hands  seize  hers.  And  Pete  stood  by  her, 
suddenly  humble  and  confused. 

"  Oh,  my  dearie!  "  cried  Ann.  "  Look  not  so  strange. 
Are  you  hurt?  " 

"  Xo,"  answered  Alice.     "How — what  happened?" 

"  Pete  came  to  the  kitchen,"  explained  Ann,  "  say- 
ing he  must  speak  with  ye.  He " 

"  Roger  sent  me,"  cried  Pete.  "  And  I  had  treated 
him  ill!" 

"  Tabb,"  went  on  Ann,  "  ordered  Pete  out.     That  is 


450  The  Colonials 

what  the  lass  must  have  whispered  him.  There  were 
words;  Pete  struck  him  down  and  hurried  me  here.  The 
door  was  locked.  To  have  forced  it  would  have  warned 
the  captain;  so — oh!"  cried  Ann.  "I  have  broken  a 
promise,  told  a  secret,  and  for  you."  The  little  woman's 
face  worked. 

"Ann,  Ann!"  cried  Alice,  "I  can  never  thank  you! 
Or  you  " — and  she  turned  to  Pete — "  not  in  all  my 
life." 

The  man  looked  down.  He  had  never  before  been 
face  to  face  with  her,  admiring  from  a  distance  merely. 
"  'Twas  for  Master  Frank,"  he  mumbled. 

All  was  for  Frank!  She  saw  how,  even  in  this  danger, 
those  who  loved  Frank  had  protected  her.  Present  or 
absent,  still  he  saved  her.  She  hid  her  face  in  her 
hands. 


CHAPTER  VII 

DORCHESTER    HEIGHTS 

Captain  Manly,  first  officer  of  the  American  navy, 
commander  of  a  little  fleet  whose  men  were  all  commis- 
sioned in  the  army,  lest,  captured,  they  should  be  shot  as 
pirates — Captain  Manly,  of  Marblehead,  took  heavy  toll 
of  the  ships  that  were  sent  to  the  relief  of  Boston.  Sup- 
plies and  stores,  food  and  drink,  powder,  guns,  flints, 
balls,  bullets — these  he  took  and  sent  to  the  camp  at 
Cambridge.  That  giant  mortar  which  the  rebels  received 
with  cheers, and  which  "Old  Put"  christenedthe  "Con- 
gress " — that  was  of  Manly's  taking.  But  Howe  never 
felt  the  loss.  The  rebel  fleet  was  tiny,  the  opening  of 
Massachusetts  Bay  was  wide,  the  vessels  sent  from 
England  were  very  numerous.  So  many  came  safe  to 
port  that  there  was  comfort  in  Boston  at  the  opening  of 
spring.  The  warmth,  so  welcome  after  the  late  severe 
frost,  made  men  willing  to  look  upon  the  bright  side 
of  things.  Th£  snow  and  ice  were  melting;  reenforce- 
ments, always  about  to  arrive, were  coming; there  would 
necessarily  be  a  period  of  waiting  for  the  roads  to  dry ; 
and  then,  by  a  quick  campaign,  the  general  would 
sweep  the  country  clear  of  rebels. 

It  was  a  familiar  prophecy,  months  old,  but  by  repeti- 
tion made  sacred,  and  with  the  first  mild  day  of  March 
it  gave  new  zest  to  the  life  of  many  a  Tory.  As  the 
Mall  on  Common  Street  cleared  of  snow,  society  turned 


452  The  Colonials 

out,  and  enjoyed  its  last  promenade  on  the  parade 
ground  of  fashion. 

That  last  promenade!  while  all  unsuspected  the  end 
was  planned  and  its  means  preparing.  Behind  the 
hill  in  Roxbury  men  were  making  great  heaps  of  fas- 
cines, with  chandeliers  to  hold  them;  were  twisting 
bundles  of  hay  and  fathoms  of  rope;  were  gathering 
barrels  to  hold  earth,  and  tools  for  digging.  By  the 
river  in  Cambridge  boats  were  building.  But  on  the 
Mall  gathered  Tory  Boston  in  all  its  glory,  as  if  for 
one  final  time  to  preen  itself  and  strut  in  the  sun. 
There  walked  councillors  and  judges,  registrars  and 
inspectors,  commissioners,  treasurers,  and  officers  of  the 
customs.  Men  of  hereditary  position  were  they,  accus- 
tomed to  consider  the  higher  offices  their  own,  belong- 
ing to  the  charmed  circle,  wealthy,  refined,  and  bounti- 
fully hospitable.  A  curious  upper  class  this  was, 
developed  during  a  century  and  a  half  in  a  Puritan 
commonwealth,  and  so  far  forgetful  of  its  sternly  demo- 
cratic ancestry  that  it  had  learned  to  scoff  at  the  men 
who  represented  the  older  Massachusetts  virtues.  Their 
prejudice  against  the  Whigs,  rooted  in  the  fear  of  lost 
position,  fostered  by  aristocratic  scorn,  and  flowering 
into  the  sharpest  partisanship,  had  roused  an  equal 
feeling.  Yet  still  safe  from  an  outraged  people,  the 
Tory  magnates  walked  on  Boston  Common,  resplendent 
in  their  English  clothes.  And  with  them  walked,  more 
glorious  yet,  their  wives  and  daughters,  while  their 
sons,  in  the  livery  of  the  volunteers,  paid  soldierly  atten- 
tion to  the  ladies.  The  place  was  theirs;  they  felt 
secure  in  it;  their  fathers  had  walked  there;  their  grand- 
children should  hold  the  offices  their  fathers  held,  and 
on  Sundays  walk  upon  that  Mall.  As  for  the  temporary 
inconvenience  of  the  siege — well,  it  was  sad  that  men 
should  be  deluded,  but  those  who  act  upon  delusions 


Retribution  453 

are  insane,  and  the  insane  must  be  restrained,  by  force, 
if  necessary.  This  was  a  purging  of  the  body  politic, 
violent  but  beneficent,  and  in  the  future  the  colony 
would  be  the  gainer,  though  individuals  must  suffer. 

So  thought  the  American  Tories — not  bad  men,  but 
good;  and  not  ignorant,  but  educated.  Their  words 
on  the  rebellion  certainly  were  wise,  but  their  wisdom 
was  like  a  sword  which  could  cut  both  ways. 

So  they  enjoyed  their  last  promenade,  while  with  them 
walked  their  defenders  from  overseas,  and  their  rivals. 
Lady  Harriet  was  there,  still  outshining  Mistress  Oli- 
ver; and  there  were  the  beaux  of  the  garrison — Harri- 
man,  Tudor,  Ormsby.  Alice  was  there,  with  Sotheran 
watching  her;  but  while  she  was  contented,  he  was  not, 
for  each  saw  Pete  lounging  at  a  distance,  yet  keeping 
Alice  in  sight  wherever  she  moved.  By  day  or  by  night 
the  ropemakers  were  near  her  now.  She  did  not  fear 
him;  and  he,  tantalised  and  fruitlessly  scheming,  knew 
that  she  could  defy  him  continually.  How  to  gain  her? 
How  to  prevent  his  own  final  ruin?  He  could  not  bear 
the  sight  of  her,  so  lovely  and  admired;  and,  disengag- 
ing himself  from  the  throng,  went  to  his  room  in  the 
barracks.  Tabb  was  there. 

"  Tabb,"  the  captain  said,  "  I  want  the  room." 

The  man  hesitated.    "  If  you  please,  sir " 

"Well?" 

"  Christine  is  very  miserable,  sir." 

"  Why  did  she  leave  her  mistress,  then?  " 

"  Sir,  could  she  dare  to  stay?  " 

"  Twas  her  own  choice,"  returned  his  master. 
"Well,  is  there  more?" 

"  She  says  you  promised  I  should  marry  her,  sir," 
said  Tabb. 

Sotheran  sneered:  "And  you  would  be  willing?" 

Tabb  moved  uneasily.    "  She's  kind  of  pitiful." 


454  The  Colonials 

"  Fool,"  said  his  master.  "  The  woman's  worthless 
now.  Would  you  lower  yourself — give  up  your  free- 
dom? Come,  come,  Tabb,  no  more  nonsense.  I  can- 
not have  a  married  servant.  Here  is  a  guinea  to  stop 
the  woman's  mouth." 

That  day  was  the  second  of  March.  That  night  few 
people  slept  in  Boston;  for,  in  the  middle  evening,  from 
Lechmere's  Point  a  mortar  spoke,  and  its  ball,  rising 
to  tower  a  moment  at  its  height,  fell  within  the  town. 
From  Cobble  Hill  the  signal  was  answered,  and  a  ball 
was  sent  against  the  British  works  in  Charlestown. 
Then  from  Roxbury  a  cannon  flashed,  and  upon  the 
Neck  a  guardhouse  flew  to  kindling.  Washington's 
gunners  were  practising. 

The  British  batteries  heard  the  challenge,  and  from 
Bunker's  Hill,  Barton's  Point,  and  the  Neck  answered 
the  bombardment.  All  through  the  night  the  cannon 
thundered,  and  in  that  noise  was  little  chance  for  sleep. 
There  was  small  danger;  a  hole  or  two  were  made  in 
roofs,  a  few  regulars  were  wounded,  and  the  Americans 
split  five  of  their  mortars.  Knox,  gazing  ruefully  on 
the  fragments  of  the  "  Congress,"  saw  that  his  men 
had  much  to  learn. 

And  so,  since  ladies  look  not  well  from  lack  of  sleep, 
there  was  no  promenade  the  following  day,  although 
the  sun  was  bright.  The  American  batteries  were 
silent;  they  were  bedding  their  mortars  better;  and  be- 
sides, they  had  a  reason  for  firing  in  the  night.  As 
darkness  came  they  opened  again,  and  the  full  moon, 
sailing  over  uncomfortable  Boston,  saw  splinters  fall- 
ing in  the  streets,  with  here  and  there  a  broken  win- 
dow. But  no  one  was  hurt;  there  were  few  bombs,  and 
the  garrison  laughed  at  the  colonial  general  who  sup- 
posed his  fire  effective.  Yet  Washington,  new  com- 
mander though  he  was,  knew  and  had  attained  his  pur- 


Retribution  455 

pose.  As  on  the  third  night  his  batteries  commenced 
to  fire,  sentries  in  Boston  paced  their  beats  with  con- 
tempt, and  watchers  at  the  British  posts  were  loftily 
inattentive. 

That  was  the  night  of  the  fourth  of  March.  The 
morrow  was  the  fifth,  the  anniversary  of  the  Massacre. 
A  proper  day  was  that  to  nerve  the  colonists  to  the 
spirit  for  a  battle. 

For  the  preparations  were  all  finished.  All  the  team- 
sters from  the  country  round — three  hundred  drivers 
with  their  carts  and  horses — had  come  to  Roxbury. 
The  commanders,  too,  were  there:  First  Gridley,  the 
veteran  who  planned  the  redoubt  at  Charlestown;  next 
Thomas,  energetic  and  resourceful,  the  man  who,  at 
the  first  occupation  of  Roxbury,  deceived  the  British 
with  his  slender  force  by  marching  it  round  and  round 
the  hill,  and  who  now  had  devised  many  of  the  means 
for  the  present  expedition.  There  was  Rufus  Putnam, 
the  man  to  whom  is  due  the  credit  of  making  that  expe- 
dition possible,  who  with  his  carpenters  and  woodsmen 
had  prepared  the  material  for  the  forts;  and  there  was 
Ellery  with  his  cannon,  he  who  had  assisted  Putnam  in 
every  step,  and  who  saw  at  last  at  hand  the  long-post- 
poned fulfilment  of  his  desire. 

The  moon  was  bright.  From  the  American  lines  at 
Roxbury  the  cannon  were  firing  at  the  town.  The 
British  scarcely  answered  from  the  Neck.  None  noticed 
the  dark  column  of  men  which,  off  to  the  left,  in  full 
view  crossed  Dorchester  Neck  and  mounted  the  slope 
of  the  promontory.  No  one  saw,  or  heard  for  the  noise, 
the  carts  which  followed  strewing  the  road  with  hay, 
and  none  perceived  the  steady  come  and  go,  throughout 
the  night,  of  the  wagons  carrying  materials  to  the  two 
summits  which  loomed  above  the  town.  The  slow  bom- 
bardment accomplished  its  purpose.  No  sounds  were 


456  The  Colonials 

heard  from  Dorchester,  no  suspicion  was  aroused.  The 
troops  slept  undisturbed  within  their  barracks,  the  sen- 
tinels dozed  upon  the  fleet,  the  Tories  in  the  town  at  last 
found  sleep,  and  heard  no  meaning  in  the  cannonade. 

But  in  the  morning  Boston  woke,  and  rubbed  aston- 
ished eyes.  On  the  twin  Heights  which  so  long  stood 
bare,  were  now  two  strong  redoubts.  The  parapets 
were  high,  and  across  them  lowered  the  muzzles  of  can- 
non. And  still  upon  the  Heights  men  were  working 
busily,  with  pick  and  shovel  deepening  the  ditches  which 
surrounded  the  defences,  packing  closer  the  dirt  among 
the  fascines,  felling  the  orchards  on  the  slope  to  form 
abattis,  and  placing  barrels  of  earth,  ready  to  roll  them 
down  upon  an  attacking  force. 

There  was  running  in  the  streets  of  Boston,  there  was 
knocking  at  doors,  there  was  shouting  from  neighbour 
to  neighbour,  then  was  hurried  dressing  and  crowding 
to  the  wharves.  Howe,  standing  on  the  historic  wharf 
where  the  tea  ships  had  lain,  saw  on  Dorchester  hills 
the  logical  sequence  of  the  Tea  Party,  and  had  before 
him,  summarised,  Boston's  first  and  last  words  to  the 
king  of  England.  But  the  drawing  of  historic  parallels 
was  not  his  bent;  he  must  think  of  action,  for  now  came 
a  hasty  message  from  the  admiral,  saying  that  unless 
the  Americans  were  dislodged,  the  fleet  was  at  their 
mercy.  Howe  made  up  his  mind. 

The  Americans  in  Dorchester  saw  the  British  boats 
convey  to  the  Castle  many  hundred  men.  The  ships 
closed  in;  an  assault  was  evidently  intended;  and  mes- 
sages went  hurrying  from  Washington  in  Dorchester 
to  Putnam  in  Cambridge,  to  be  ready  for  the  signal. 

In  the  redoubt  nearest  the  Castle,  which  would  bear 
the  first  attack,  Frank  Ellery  leaned  upon  a  cannon  and 
patted  its  cold  muzzle.  The  eyes  of  his  men  were  eager 
or  excited,  but  their  mouths  were  firm.  The  riflemen 


Retribution  457 

were  steady;  and  he  knew  that  Washington,  who  had 
just  inspected  the  defences,  was  satisfied.  "  Remem- 
ber," the  general  had  said,  "  the  Fifth  of  March,"  and 
the  men's  response  was  resolute.  The  regiments  that 
forced  their  way  through  the  entangling  trees  would 
have  to  meet  Frank's  charges  of  grape  before  the  bar- 
rels were  rolled,  and  must  be  disciplined  indeed  if  they 
could  attain  the  forty  yards  for  which  the  riflemen  re- 
served their  fire. 

And  there  was  another  combat  impending.  When 
the  British  should  land  on  Dorchester,  rockets  were  to 
signal  Putnam  in  Cambridge.  Within  the  river  were 
boats  and  barges;  ready  on  the  shore  were  four  thou- 
sand men — the  best  drilled  of  the  troops — burning  with 
desire  to  cross  the  Back  Bay  and  storm  the  town.  That 
was  to  be  indeed  a  day  of  fighting.  The  town  might  be 
destroyed;  the  flower  of  both  armies  would  certainly 
perish.  Frank  could  not  be  easy  as  he  thought  of  Alice. 

But  as  the  day  wore  on,  and  by  the  Castle  the  British 
seemed  ready  to  embark  again,  the  wind  which  had  been 
blowing  all  the  day — a  high  east  wind,  driving  across 
the  dull  heaven  wisps  and  rags  of  clouds,  the  forerun- 
ners of  a  tempest — grew  into  a  gale.  The  boats  had 
wallowed  their  way  from  Boston  to  the  Castle,  drench- 
ing the  soldiers  with  spray.  At  noon  the  strait  between 
Dorchester  and  Castle  Island  was  a  mass  of  whitecaps, 
and  by  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  the  waves  were  high 
on  the  beach.  Washington  came  again  to  the  redoubt, 
and,  standing  by  Frank's  side,  gazed  down  at  the  water. 
A  powerful  surf  was  running.  No  boat  could  live  upon 
that  shore. 

Frank  saw  his  chief  frown  as  he  turned  away.  "  Mr. 
Ellery,"  said  Washington,  "  our  visitors  cannot  come. 
I  know  not  which  will  mourn  the  most,  you  or  I." 

The  British  remained  at  the  Castle.     Evening  fell. 


458  The  Colonials 

Through  the  night  blew  the  furious  wind;  louder  grew 
the  pounding  of  the  surf.  The  rain  came  about  dark, 
and  when  it  came  it  fell  in  torrents.  Men  were  still 
busy;  in  spite  of  the  rain  and  darkness  the  works  were 
growing  stronger;  and  when  day  came  the  British,  could 
they  have  landed,  would  have  had  to  climb  a  slippery 
hill  against  a  fortress.  There  would  be  no  fight. 

Washington's  end  was  gained.  He  saw,  and  Howe 
saw  too.  All  through  the  sixth  the  gale  continued,  but 
the  rebels  worked  constantly,  and  when  at  night  the 
wind  lessened,  the  forts  were  so  strong  that  it  would 
have  been  madness  to  attack.  On  the  morning  of  the 
seventh  they  saw  from  the  Heights  the  boats  returning 
from  the  Castle.  What  then  ?  There  was  but  one  thing 
left. 

In  Boston  it  was  known  that  the  generals  were  in 
council  at  the  Province  House.  People  gathered  in  the 
streets — Whigs  with  faces  grimly  anticipative,  Tories 
pale  and  anxious.  The  Whigs  saw  reward  for  their 
sufferings;  the  Tories  beheld  the  approach  of  an  ap- 
palling catastrophe.  They  could  not  name  it  to  them- 
selves; they  strove  with  quivering  lips  to  keep  up  confi- 
dence. They  had  little  time  remaining  in  which  to  de- 
ceive themselves. 

The  door  of  the  Province  House  opened  at  last;  the 
officers  came  out.  The  admiral  first,  with  head  bent 
down,  hurried  to  his  boat;  the  generals,  refusing  to  an- 
swer questions,  went  to  their  quarters.  But  the  decision 
was  not  long  withheld.  It  was  whispered  first;  then  it 
was  spoken;  then,  with  voice  of  despair,  it  was  cried 
through  the  streets.  Men  rushed  headlong  to  their 
homes,  to  shut  themselves  from  the  light  of  day.  Their 
heaven  was  shattered;  its  fragments  were  falling  upon 
their  heads;  they  saw  themselves  ruined,  their  families 


Retribution  459 

destitute,  their  homes  destroyed.     That  news  carried 
consternation  to  hundreds  of  hearts;  its  words  tolled 
the  end  of  many  lives;  it  meant  poverty,  misery,  exile. 
For  Howe  had  determined  to  evacuate  the  town. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

EVACUATION 

Confusion  indescribable,  consternation  in  the  ex- 
treme, paralysed  for  a  while  the  minds  of  the  Tories. 
All  illusions  were  swept  away,  and  in  their  place  was  a 
reality  never  contemplated;  a  horrible  black  future,  with 
the  immediate  need  to  save  the  most  precious  posses- 
sions, and  in  haste,  whether  well  or  sick,  young  or  old, 
to  pack  and  go.  Each  according  to  his  character  fought 
against  despair,  and  summoning  his  energies  as  he 
might,  fell  to  his  work. 

There  rose  the  fear  that  the  town  might  be  destroyed 
at  embarkation,  and  taught  the  Tories  they  must  save 
enough  to  enable  them  to  begin  again  in  another  coun- 
try. But  how  save?  There  was  bribing  and  cajoling, 
carrying  and  loading,  crowding  and  jostling.  The 
brisker  bought  for  themselves  privileges  that  excluded 
the  king's  property;  and  securing  cabins  for  their 
families,  hurried  their  merchandise  on  board  the  trans- 
ports. Such  as  they  could  not  carry  they  offered  for 
sale.  Then  the  best  of  things  were  cheap;  then  the 
most  valuable  were  abandoned  because  untransport- 
able  ;  and  furniture, books, carriages, and  all  the  glories 
of  those  fashionable  establishments, of  merchants,  min- 
isters, officials,  lawyers,  and  judges,  became  worthless 
in  the  town  that  had  admired.  Miserably  the  refu- 
gees began  to  huddle  on  board  the  vessels.  The  night 
of  the  ninth  of  March  gave  speed  to  every  laggard. 


Retribution  •  461 

On  the  promontory  of  Dorchester  a  hill  close  over- 
hung the  town.  It  stretched  to  such  a  point  that  it 
flanked  the  British  embankment  on  the  Xeck,  and  from 
a  short  half  mile  could  rake  the  gunners  at  their  work, 
or  in  the  other  direction  could  pitch  a  ball  far  within  the 
town.  It  bore  another  of  those  rugged  New  England 
names  which  proved  so  full  of  meaning  to  the  British. 
Noddle's  Island,  Breed's  Hill,  Bunker's  Hill,  Cobble 
Hill,  Lechmere  Point,  Lamb's  Dam,  were  now  to  add 
Nook's  Hill  to  their  number.  Howe  had  had  his  eye 
upon  it;  on  the  night  of  the  ninth  a  fare  was  seen  there, 
and  his  batteries  opened. 

All  night  the  cannon  roared,  from  the  Americans  and 
British  alike.  It  was  the  severest  fire  that  yet  had 
come;  the  timid  within  the  town,  the  frightened  women 
on  the  fleet,  thought  their  last  hour  was  at  hand.  Balls 
fell  crashing  in  the  town;  the  church  was  struck  on 
Brattle  Street,  and  a  ball  struck  the  Ellery  house,  where 
Thomas  Ellery,  crouching  by  the  library  hearth;  Tudor, 
anxious  for  his  sister's  safety;  and  Brush,  making  the 
conditions  of  a  bargain,  all  started  at  the  thud  of  the 
impact. 

But  two  who  were  there — Alice  sitting  by  the  fire, 
and  Sotheran  leaning  at  the  mantel — did  not  move. 
Sotheran  had  come,  according  to  his  policy,  to  keep 
himself  in  Alice's  mind,  and  to  hold  up  before  her,  by 
sinister  glances  from  his  steely  eyes,  the  threat  by  which 
he  meant  to  win  her.  It  was  at  a  moment  when  their 
eyes  had  met  that  the  crash  came,  but  neither  of  them 
stirred.  Sotheran  shot  his  threat,  Alice  met  it  fear- 
lessly; and  erect,  immovable,  unyielding,  they  scarcely 
heard  a  noise  which  had  no  terrors  for  either. 

But  the  others  heard  above  them  the  splintering  of 
wood — the  ball  had  entered  by  a  window.  The  ceiling 
jarred,  by  the  corner  some  plaster  fell,  and  as  Thomas 


462  The  Colonials 

Ellery  started  frightened  from  his  seat,  before  his  eyes 
a  part  of  the  wall  swung  slowly  open.  A  bookcase 
moved  bodily  from  its  position,  and  showed  a  dark 
cavity  behind. 

It  was  Tudor  who  stopped  Ellery  in  his  flight,  and 
Brush  who  seized  a  candle.  "  It  will  not  come  again, 
ye  fool!  "  cried  the  Tory.  "  Hey,  man,  see  what's  heref 
Did  ye  know,  Tom?" 

But  he  saw  that  Ellery  had  not  known.  Brush 
stepped  boldly  to  the  secret  chamber,  and  held  his  light 
within  it.  "Hey!"  he  cried,  "a  noble  hiding-place. 
Come  here,  Tom — stairs!  Room  for  a  man  to  live  a 
month!  Come  and  explore." 

"  Come  away,  Crean,"  said  Ellery.  Tudor  was  aston- 
ished; but  into  Alice's  glance  came  a  reminder,  and 
Sotheran,  seeing  from  the  corner  of  his  eye,  bit  his  lip, 
held  his  glance  with  difficulty  a  moment  longer,  then 
looked  away. 

But  Brush  disappeared.  They  heard  him  suddenly 
cry:  "Hi,  Tom,  come  here!  Bags!  Egad,  the  Ellery 
plate!  And  books!" 

"Books!"  cried  Ellery;  and  sprang  after  him  into 
the  chamber. 

They  brought  out  heavy  bags,  and  laid  them  on 
the  floor;  they  brought  a  brass-bound  box;  they  brought 
great  tankards,  platters,  plates,  flagons,  and  candle- 
sticks, and  piled  them  on  the  hearth;  they  brought 
smaller  bags;  and  last,  two  by  two,  Ellery  brought  the 
books. 

"Why  do  you  bring  those?"  asked  Brush.  "  They 
have  no  value.  With  these,  Tom  " — and  he  touched 
the  bags  with  his  foot — "  ye  can  start  again." 

But  Ellery,  saying  nothing,  and  glancing  furtively  at 
Alice  and  her  brother,  opened  a  great  ledger  and  laid 
it  upon  the  embers  of  the  fire.  It  smoked  and  blazed; 


Retribution  463 

another  followed  it,  and  then  another,  and  while  the 
flame  rose  up  the  chimney,  Ellery,  more  and  more  erect, 
more  and  more  secure,  allowed  his  nervous  smile  to 
grow  into  a  sneer,  and  caressed  with  his  glance  the 
bags,  the  box,  and  the  silver  at  his  feet. 

But  Brush,  rubbing  his  hands,  saw  in-  the  discovery 
both  revenge  and  profit.  Frank  Ellery  was  well  served, 
and  Tom — be  sure! — would  pay  well  for  his  passage. 
And  Sotheran  now  saw  the  tables  turned.  Looking  at 
Alice,  he  strove  to  command  her  eye  and  express  his 
triumph,  but  she  would  not  allow  it,  knowing  that  she 
could  not  bear  it.  She  saw  in  the  Ellery  plate  and 
jewels  Frank's  dearest  treasures,  now  in  his  uncle's 
possession,  and  if  taken  to  Halifax,  lost  to  Frank 
forever. 

"  Come,"  said  Tudor  coldly  at  last,  disgusted  by  a 
scene  which  he  did  not  understand,  but  in  which  he  sus- 
pected some  dishonesty.  "  Come,  Mr.  Brush,  let  us 
complete  our  bargain.  I  and  my  company  are  ordered 
to  sail  on  your  two  ships,  and  you  advise  the  '  Eliza- 
beth '  as  the  more  comfortable  for  my  sister?  " 

"  Ay,"  said  Brush.  "  The  brigantine  has  no  space  for 
soldiers;  they  must  sail  on  the  'Minerva';  but  the 
'  Elizabeth '  has  the  better  cabins,  and  is  the  easier 
boat.  And  we  need  no  soldiers  for  defence;  we  shall 
be  with  the  fleet." 

"  I  am  doubtful,"  said  Tudor  to  Alice,  "  whether  you 
should  stay  on  shore  so  long.  We  shall  be  the  very 
last  to  go." 

For  the  light  infantry  and  grenadiers,  as  at  Concord 
and  Breed's  Hill,  had  again  been  detailed  for  the  post 
of  danger.  Brush  put  in  a  hasty  word  for  himself. 

He  saw  before  him  the  opportunity  .of  his  life.  That 
evening  he  had  received  from  Howe — too  busy  with  his 
many  cares  to  choose  his  men  discriminately — authority 


464  The  Colonials 

to  seize  all  property  which  might  be  useful  to  the  rebels. 
A  ship  and  a  brigantine  had  been  placed  at  his  disposal. 
The  scope  of  Brush's  commission  might  be  stretched  to 
include  almost  all  property  of  value.  Here  was  a  noble 
chance  for  peculation;  and  the  passage  money  of  those 
who  sailed  with  him  made  an  extra  perquisite.  Brush 
believed  his  fortune  made. 

"  Ah,  my  lady,"  he  said,  turning  to  Alice,  "  you  are 
well  off  to  sail  in  my  little  ship,  instead  of  the  great 
transports.  With  Commissioner  Hallowell  to-night, 
thirty-seven  people  are  pigging  together  on  the  same 
cabin  floor,  and  there  they  wait,  cooped  up  on  board, 
until  the  army  sails.  But  you  are  comfortable  ashore, 
and  with  me " 

Alice  turned  her  eyes  from  him.  The  man  spoke 
truth,  but  he  was  odious;  she  hoped  for  a  quick  voyage 
in  such  company.  The  secret  passage,  still  open,  re- 
minded her  of  Frank;  and  here  she  was,  about  to  flee 
the  town,  to  see  him  again — when? 

"  The  arrangement  suits  me,"  she  said.  "  Complete 
it  quickly,  George." 

"  Then  understand,  Mr.  Brush,"  said  Tudor.  "  My 
sister  and  I  have  the  two  cabins  on  the  '  Elizabeth  '- 
my  men  and  my  lieutenant  sail  on  the  '  Minerva.'  The 
general  has  permitted  it.  No  one  can  say  how  long 
this  waiting  is  to  last.  You  are  to  lie  close  to  the 
wharves  to  receive  us." 

Brush  laughed.  "  Never  fear,"  he  said  again.  "  I 
sail  on  the  '  Elizabeth  '  myself,  and  until  the  last  mo- 
ment I  shall  be  busy  on  shore." 

'''  Then  here  is  the  money,"  said  Tudor.  "  Give  me 
a  receipt." 

Brush  went  to  the  table  to  write.  As  he  signed  it 
Alice,  who  had  been  sitting  by  the  bookcase,  rose,  and 
almost  involuntarily  pushed  it  shut.  As  it  swung  into 


Retribution  465 

its  place,  she  heard  a  muffled  click.  The  catch  was  not 
injured,  the  door  had  but  jarred  open. 

"  Hi!  "  cried  Brush,  starting.    "  I  wanted " 

'  'Tis  right,"  said  Ellery  briskly.  "  There  can  be 
nothing  more  for  me." 

"  But  for  me,"  said  Brush,  "  there  will  be  greater  pay. 
For  safe  carriage  of  you  and  all  that  treasure  on  the 
'  Elizabeth/  you  must  give  me  now " 

"  George,"  said  Alice,  turning  to  the  door.  "  I  am 
going  to  my  room.  Captain  Sotheran,  pray  excuse  us." 

"  I  return  immediately,  Henry,"  said  Tudor,  following 
his  sister. 

They  left  Ellery  and  Brush  bitterly  bargaining. 
Sotheran,  contemptuous  of  them,  exultant  as  he  was 
at  the  discovery  of  Frank's  treasure,  frowned  as  Alice 
carelessly  excused  herself.  The  girl  walked  close  to 
the  edge  of  danger;  she  had  no  fear  of  him. 

But  Alice,  in  her  room,  sank  in  her  chair  with  little 
spirit.  Now  that  they  were  upstairs,  the  noise  of  the 
cannonade  sounded  more  clearly. 

"  Hear  that!  "  said  Tudor,  standing  by  her  side. 

It  was  the  worst  that  they  had  ever  heard  it,  except 
on  the  morning  of  the  Charlestown  battle.  The  sound 
was  like  the  continuous  rolling  of  thunder,  now  with 
a  louder,  near  report,  now  with  the  steady  booming  of 
the  American  cannon. 

"But  do  not  fear,"  said  Tudor;  "the  house  is  not 
likely  to  be  hit  again,  and  this  side  is  sheltered." 

"  I  do  not  fear,"  responded  Alice.  She  raised  her 
eyes  to  her  brother's  face.  "  Do  you  see  where  we  have 
come?  We  are  bombarded  in  our  homes,  and  we  must 
flee  the  town." 

"  I  see,"  said  Tudor  gloomily;  "  I  am  amazed;  I 
understand  it  not." 

"  It  is  punishment,"  said  Alice.     Her  brother  made 


466  The  Colonials 

no  answer.  In  a  moment  she  added:  "It  is  just 
punishment." 

She  thought  he  might  start  or  exclaim.  Instead,  he 
turned  to  her  a  sober  face.  "Do  you  think  so?"  he 
asked,  with  interest  certainly,  but  without  astonishment. 

"  We  are  in  the  wrong,"  she  answered. 

She  understood  his  answer.  "  I  am  a  soldier,"  he 
said.  "  I  must  go  now.  I  will  keep  you  informed.  Do 
you  be  ready  packed."  He  kissed  her  good  night. 

In  the  morning  it  was  seen  that  the  Americans  had 
not  finished  their  redoubt  upon  Nook's  Hill.  But  a 
beginning  had  been  made,  and  Howe  saw  that  he  must 
hurry.  He  ordered  the  already  laden  transports  to 
fall  down  the  harbour.  That  day  within  the  town  there 
was  spiking  of  guns,  breaking  of  gun-carriages,  and 
throwing  of  ammunition  into  the  water.  But  the  work 
could  not  be  thoroughly  done;  there  were  barely  enough 
soldiers  left  to  guard  the  fortifications.  Proper  policing 
and  working  were  no  longer  possible. 

It  was  Brush's  opportunity,  and  he  seized  it.  He 
knew  the  town  well ;  he  knew  the  poorer  sort  of  Tories 
— hangers-on  after  the  smaller  offices,  men  ready  for 
violence,  like  himself,  when  fawning  failed.  Fawning 
had  secured  him  his  commission,  but  with  violence  he 
meant  to  execute  it.  The  gang  he  gathered  about  him — 
gaugers,  tide-waiters,  and  jailers — were  ready  for  what- 
ever he  might  propose.  His  vessels  began  to  fill  up 
with  the  rich  harvest  that  he  reaped. 

Tudor,  snatching  one  evening  a  quarter-hour  in  which 
to  see  Alice,  saw  before  a  warehouse  Brush's  rascally 
crew,  provided  with  axes  and  crowbars,  and  with  a  cart 
and  barrow  for  conveying  their  spoils. 

A  soberly  dressed  inhabitant  of  the  town,  standing 
before  the  warehouse  door,  was  protesting  loudly 


Retribution  467 

against  the  proposed  entrance.  When  he  saw  Tudor 
he  ran  to  him  eagerly. 

"  Sir,"  he  said,  "  here  is  property  left  in  my  care  by 
a  merchant  who  has  left  the  town.  This  man  intends  to 
take  the  goods,  but  will  give  me  no  receipt." 

Brush,  half  in  liquor,  roared  his  response:  "  I  am 
directed  to  give  receipts  to  owners.  This  man  is  no 
owner.  Where  is  the  owner?" 

"  The  goods,"  cried  the  man,  "  are  but  silks  and 
woollens!  " 

"  'Tis  silk  and  woollens  that  I  want,"  retorted  Brush. 
He  signalled  to  his  men,  and  immediately  against  the 
unguarded  door  an  axe  crashed. 

The  citizen  wrung  his  hands.  "  Captain!  Captain!  " 
he  cried. 

Tudor  hung  his  head.  "  I  cannot  help  you,"  he  said 
hastily,  and  hurried  on. 

It  was  not  the  last  time  that  he  saw  such  a  scene,  or 
the  evidence  of  it.  Stores  broken  open,  their  contents 
strewed  upon  the  floor  and  even  on  the  sidewalk;  here 
barrels  of  flour  lying;  there  sacks  of  rice  abandoned 
for  a  richer  booty — this  he  saw  in  the  next  three  days, 
and  more.  For  one  morning  he  passed  a  residence, 
its  door  open,  upon  its  steps  scarlet  hangings  strewn, 
and  a  broken  mirror  by  the  gate. 

And  the  evidence  showed  that  not  Brush  alone  had 
his  hand  in  this;  the  damage  was  too  wide  and  wanton. 
Brush,  as  near  as  Tudor  could  make  out,  was  attending 
strictly  to  the  gathering  of  marketable  merchandise. 
The  looting  of  houses  was  a  small  matter  beside  his 
systematic  gains. 

"  Some  one  else  than  Brush  is  doing  this,"  Tudor 
said  to  Sotheran.  "  There  must  be  soldiers  at  it,  or 
men  from  the  fleet." 

Sotheran  smiled.     "Surely,"  he   said;   "I   saw  last 


468  The  Colonials 

night  a  party  of  sailors,  headed  by  a  petty  officer,  and 
with  lanterns,  at  work  upon  a  door  with  hatchets." 

'  'Tis  forbidden  under  pain  of  death!  "  cried  Tudor. 
"  Tis  posted  in  bills." 

"  There  was  a  bill  upon  the  door,"  said  Sotheran. 

"And  you  did  not  interfere?" 

Sotheran  shrugged.    "  Why  should  I?  " 

Sotheran  shrugged  frequently  in  those  days,  with  the 
same  indifference.  Distress,  despair  even,  could  not 
touch  him.  He  curled  his  lip  when  Tabb,  for  the  fourth 
time,  came  to  him  with  a  request. 

"  But  I  cannot  get  the  woman  a  passage,"  said  the 
captain. 

"  My  God,  sir!  "  cried  Tabb.  "  To  leave  her  behind, 
in  her  condition!  And  if  I  had  married  her,  there  would 
have  been  room  with  the  other  soldiers'  wives." 

"Why  did  you  not  marry  her  then?"  sneered  his 
master.  He  turned  carelessly  away,  leaving  Tabb,  with 
purple  face,  choking  down  curses. 

But  Tudor  was  sickening  of  the  scenes  he  saw.  He 
saw  that  the  streets  were  unsafe  for  women  even  in  the 
day,  and  forbade  Alice  to  go  beyond  the  garden.  She 
could  not  even  go  to  Barbara. 

"  I  will  take  your  farewell  to  her,"  he  said.  "  You 
'must  not  leave  this  place  until  we  go  to  the  wharf. 
Thank  heaven,  I  think  it  will  be  but  two  days  more." 

Two  days  went  by  with  confusion  and  looting,  and 
then  other  days  passed,  for  the  wind  became  east. 
Tudor,  with  Alice's  safety  ever  on  his  mind,  looked 
impatiently  for  a  fair  wind.  All  but  a  few  of  the  Royal- 
ists had  left  their  homes;  down  the  harbour  by  the 
Castle  they  were  miserably  cooped  in  their  narrow 
quarters,  longing,  in  the  face  of  the  approaching  New 
England  spring,  for  the  bleak  northern  port  which  was 
to  be  their  refuge.  And  with  such  a  command  over 


Retribution  469 

them  that  at  any  time  he  might  destroy  half  the  British 
army,  Washington  grew  impatient,  and  acted  once 
more. 

From  the  lines  they  saw,  on  that  last  night,  the 
glimmer  of  lanterns  on  Nook's  Hill,  and  heard  across 
the  wind  the  blows  of  picks,  so  near  was  the  jutting 
knoll.  All  night  the  British  fired  upon  it,  but  without 
response;  the  Americans  knew  the  town  was  theirs. 
In  the  morning  a  small  redoubt  stood  there,  well  filled 
with  men  and  crowned  with  cannon,  which  Dickie  El- 
lery  but  waited  for  the  word  to  fire.  The  defences  at 
the  Neck  were  at  his  mercy. 

Well  has  that  been  called  Washington's  notice  to 
quit.  Howe  saw  that  his  time  was  up,  and  issued  the 
order  for  immediate  evacuation. 


CHAPTER  IX 

VILLAINY 

It  was  early  on  the  morning  of  the  seventeenth  of 
March  that  Tudor  sent  by  his  servant  a  note  to  Alice. 
"  We  are  preparing  to  embark.  I  have  notified  the 
'  Elizabeth.'  Go  on  board  at  once." 

So  Alice,  while  Ann  stood  by  with  joy  and  grief  con- 
tending in  her  heart,  thrust  the  last  articles  into  her 
bag,  and  sent  it  to  the  boat.  Her  boxes  had  days  ago 
been  carried  on  board  the  ship;  Ellery  had  hastened 
before  her  to  the  wharf.  Alice  took  a  last  look  at  the 
room,  and  went  down  the  stairs. 

In  the  hall  were  standing  a  dozen  men — ropemakers 
— and  before  them  was  Pete.  Many  of  their  faces  had 
grown  familiar  to  Alice  in  the  past  three  weeks;  she 
had  seen  them  as  they  followed  her  in  the  street,  or  had 
noticed  them  as  in  turn  they  watched  the  house.  As 
she  saw  them  grouped  there,  thin  and  ragged,  but  de- 
voted to  her  for  Master  Frank's  sake,  she  felt  deep 
gratitude  to  them,  and  went  to  Pete  as  to  an  old  ser- 
vant, giving  him  her  hand. 

"  I  can  never  thank  you,"  she  said  simply. 

"  Oh,  my  lady,"  cried  the  tall  fellow,  his  face  glowing 
with  emotion,  "why  do  you  go?  Stay  here  with  us! 
We  can  hide  you  for  half  an  hour;  then  Master  Frank 
will  come." 

"  Ay,  stay,"  murmured  the  others,  pressing  forward 
to  her.  "  You  are  safe  with  us.  We  will  die  for  you." 


Retribution  47 1 

To  Alice  that  devotion  was  a  sign  of  the  essence  of 
Frank's  character,  which  made  men  love  to  serve  him. 
It  represented  him  clearly,  and  showed  with  sudden 
force  her  own  longing  to  stay.  To  give  herself  to  those 
rugged  men,  to  wait  for  Frank,  to  repose  in  his  strength 
for  the  rest  of  her  life — there  was  a  picture  of  happi- 
ness which,  after  such  dangers,  was  alluring  to  her,  so 
fatigued  and  lonely.  Had  she  been  promised  to  Frank, 
she  might  have  yielded.  But  though  Barbara  had  as- 
sured her  of  his  love,  though  his  own  actions  had  pro- 
claimed it,  he  had  not  spoken,  and  it  could  not  be. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said;  and  from  her  tones  more 
than  from  her  words  they  knew  her  gratitude.  "  Thank 
you,  but  I  must  go." 

She  felt  Pete  seize  her  hand  again  and  kiss  it,  and 
tears  came  to  her  eyes.  Through  the  film  of  them  she 
looked  upon  their  honest  faces,  she  saw  the  gloomy 
house  which  was  so  dear  to  her,  and  she  saw  Ann  at  her 
elbow,  pinched  and  sorrowful.  She  stooped  and  kissed 
the  little  woman. 

"  Good-by,  good-by!  "  she  said;  and  hurried  from  the 
house. 

She  knew  that  at  a  distance  the  Whigs  were  follow- 
ing her,  but  she  would  not  glance  behind.  She  could 
not  bear  to  see  them  again,  or  to  look  at  the  dark  house, 
and  she  hastened  to  the  wharf.  The  boat  was  there, 
with  Ellery  in  it,  and  a  ruffianly  crew  at  the  oars.  She 
stepped  in,  and,  sitting  in  the  stern,  drew  her  hood 
down  over  her  face.  Ellery  cast  a  nervous  glance  at 
the  boats  which,  loaded  with  soldiers,  were  pushing  off 
from  Long  Wharf  and  the  South  Battery,  and  he  heard 
with  relief  the  coxswain's  order : 

"  Give  way." 

On  board  the  ship  Alice  drew  a  long  breath;  she  had 
left  the  town.  This  was  the  beginning  of  a  new  life  for 


47 2  The  Colonials 

her;  England  next,  and  a  country  life,  quiet  and  peace- 
ful, seeing  neither  war  nor  men,  with  many  years  to 
pass  through  before  death.  She  would  live  on  her 
father's  little  estate  and  give  herself  to  charity — might 
she  find  better  gratitude  than  Christine's!  This  was 
hard  and  bitter,  but  she  was  born  to  endure,  and  could 
bear  it.  She  turned  for  a  last  glance  at  the  town,  but 
her  eye  caught  first,  and  could  not  pass,  the  distant 
Heights,  whose  forts  were  driving  her  away.  There 
was  the  strongest  reminder  of  Frank,  determined  and 
successful. 

Some  one  was  pulling  at  her  cloak.  She  turned  and 
saw  Roger. 

"  Roger!  "  she  cried.    "  How  came  you  here?" 

There  were  tears  in  the  lad's  eyes.  "  I  slipped  away 
from  Tabb,"  he  said.  "  I  meant  to  find  Pete  and  stay 
with  him,  but  my  uncle  met  me  at  a  corner." 

"Your  uncle?"  asked  Alice.  She  saw  Brush  stand- 
ing by.  "Is  he  your  uncle?  Can  I  do  nothing  for 
you?" 

"  Nothing,"  he  answered  sadly. 

"  Have  courage,"  she  answered;  "  I  owe  you  much. 
You  shall  be  my  servant  when  we  land.  Christine — " 
She  turned  away;  it  hurt  her  to  speak  of  the  girl. 

Roger  could  have  told  her  of  Christine's  despair;  of 
Tabb,  distracted  between  his  military  duties  and  the 
reproaches  of  his  late-awakened  conscience.  But  the 
boy  said  nothing,  and  watched  Alice  as  she  went  to  her 
cabin. 

******* 

Barbara  had  looked  out  from  her  house  upon  the 
hurried  departure  of  the  soldiers  from  the  barracks  on 
the  Common.  They  had  gone,  the  last  man  of  them, 
with  their  belongings  hanging  about  them  in  bundles, 
each  man  with  a  heavy  load.  That  moment  they  were 


Retribution  473 

embarking  at  the  South  Battery.  In  half  an  hour  the 
last  redcoat,  the  last  Tory,  would  have  left  the  town. 
Her  bosom  rose  and  fell.  In  triumph?  Was  there  no 
other  feeling,  Barbara? 

"There  goes  Anthony  Paddock!"  cried  her  father 
from  the  parlour  window. 

"Anthony!"  she  cried;  and  ran  out  to  say  good-by. 

She  called  it  after  him,  but  she  was  too  late.  Anthony 
was  walking  fast,  his  hat  drawn  down,  his  eyes  upon  the 
ground,  the  bundle  for  which  he  had  returned  clasped 
fiercely  under  his  arm.  He  was  taking  a  dreary  farewell 
of  Boston,  the  town  which  he  should  never  see  again; 
which,  but  for  Adino  Paddock's  elms  by  the  burying- 
ground,  would  never  more  hear  his  name.  Strange 
that  the  fall  of  the  oldest  of  his  father's  elms  should  be 
chronicled  as  the  final  break  with  Tory  traditions,  while 
Anthony,  running  now  lest  he  should  be  left,  was  the 
last  Tory  to  leave  Boston. 

Barbara,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  leaned  across  the 
fence  and  looked  at  him.  She  had  known  him  as  so 
gay,  so  proud,  so  confident!  She  knew  how  he  still 
mourned  Dickie  Ellery,  and  with  a  woman's  sympathy 
she  understood  his  present  feelings.  She  was  so  intent 
upon  her  thoughts  of  him  that  she  started  when  she 
heard  a  voice. 

There  was  Tudor  at  the  gate.  The  colour  rushed  to 
her  cheeks,  quick  floods  of  joy  and  fear  surged  through 
her  heart.  He  was  very  serious;  his  face  showed  the 
strain  of  his  recent  anxieties.  Yet  he,  like  Anthony, 
had  been  gay. 

"May  I  come  in?"  he  asked. 

Her  coquetry  was  with  her  yet.  "  The  gate  is  gone," 
she  responded.  "  Your  soldiers  took  it,  sir.  for  kind' 
Hng." 


474  The  Colonials     . 

He  leaned  toward  her  earnestly.  "  Mistress  Savage," 
he  said  again,  "  may  I  not  come  in?  " 

She  dropped  her  eyes.  "  I  pray  you  enter,"  she  an- 
swered very  soberly. 

He  stood  before  her.  "  Mistress  Savage,"  he  said, 
"  I  wished  to  carry  away  with  me  the  memory  that  I 
had  been  permitted  to  enter  here,  in  proof  that  we  are 
friends  at  parting.  And  I  bring  Alice's  farewell." 

She  looked  at  him  again.  "  Give  her  my  dearest 
love,"  she  said.  "  My  father  would  not  permit  me  to  go 
upon  the  streets." 

"  And  I  forbade  Alice,"  he  said.  "  It  was  wiser  so.  I 
will  give  her  your  love.  And  we  shall  meet  again." 

Meet  again?  "  I  trust  so,"  Barbara  responded  truth- 
fully. 

He  came  a  step  nearer;  he  wished  to  speak  his  own 
good-by.  "  I  intend,"  he  said,  "  that  we  shall  meet 
again." 

Why  did  Barbara  tremble?  What  did  she  see  in  his 
glance  that  her  own  should  fall  before  it?  Her  colour 
was  wonderful. 

"  Do  you  remember,"  he  asked  her,  "  that  you  told 
me  to  resign?  " 

She  murmured,  "  Yes." 

"  I  have  thought  much  since  then,"  she  heard  him 
say.  "  Things  have  changed  to  me.  I — "  he  hesitated — 
"  Alice  thinks — I  think — that  we  are  in  the  wrong.  I 
shall  resign." 

"  Captain  Tudor!  "  she  cried,  lifting  her  eyes  again — 
not  black  now,  and  flashing,  it  seemed  to  him,  but  eyes 
of  violet  brown,  warm  and  melting.  She  could  not  ex- 
press her  feeling,  but  clasped  her  hands,  repeating: 
"  Captain  Tudor!  " 

Something  took  him  by  the  throat.  "  I — I  shall  come 
back,"  he  said  with  difficulty,  "  when  this  is  over." 


Retribution  475 

Again  her  glance  was  on  the  ground,  again  her  colour 
mantled  freshly. 

"  Shall  I  be  welcome?  "  he  asked. 

"  You — "  she  began;  "  you — "  Then  she  found  cour- 
age, and  looked  him  in  the  face.  "  I  shall  be  glad  to  see 
you." 

He  held  his  hand  for  hers;  she  gave  it.  He  raised  it 
half-way  to  his  lips,  then  stooped  and  kissed  it.  Then 
he  rose  and  faced  her  again  for  a  single  instant. 

"  Good-by,"  he  said. 

"  Good-by,"  she  echoed  faintly. 

He  was  gone.  She  ran  into  the  house,  and  though 
her  father  called  her,  she  went  upstairs  to  her  room. 
There  she  sat  panting,  and  oh,  so  sorrowful! 

Tudor  went  quickly  to  the  Ellery  house.  He  wished 
to  make  sure  that  Alice  had  departed;  and  entering  by 
its  open  door,  for  Ann  as  well  as  the  ropemakers  had 
gone  to  watch  the  embarkation,  he  ran  upstairs  to 
Alice's  room.  It  was  empty;  but  he  stayed  to  see  if  she 
had  left  something  that  she  might  need.  He  looked  in 
the  closet,  and  opened  all  the  bureau  drawers.  There 
was  nothing,  and  he  turned  to  go.  There  stood  Soth- 
eran  at  the  door. 

The  grenadier  captain  had  sent  his  men  on  board 
their  ship,  but  had  remained  to  seek  one  final  word  with 
Alice,  to  give  a  threat  that  she  should  not  forget. 
Through  separation  she  should  carry  the  fear  of  him, 
and  of  what  he  could  do  to  her  brother. 

"  I  came  to  see  if  I  could  help,"  he  said.  "  Is  Alice 
gone? " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Tudor.  "  It  is  time  for  us  as  well; 
the  Yankees  will  be  in  the  town  soon." 

"  There  is  no  haste,"  responded  Sotheran.  "  Tell 
Alice  I  shall  see  you  both  again." 

"  Df  course,"  said  Tudor.    "  Shall  we  not  go?  " 


476  The  Colonials 

Sotheran  turned  calmly  to  the  door.  He  was  not 
afraid;  Alice  would  not  dare  to  braye  him.  "Yes,  let 
us  go,"  he  said. 

Tudor  stopped  him  with  a  hand  held  up.  "  There  is 
some  one  in  the  house  below,"  he  said.  They  heard 
heavy  steps. 

Each  had  a  thought  of  the  ropemakers,  and  loosened 
his  sword.  There  in  the  house,  their  men  away,  they 
could  be  captured.  Tudor  saw  in  a  flash  how  Alice 
needed  him  for  the  voyage.  He  heard  the  steps  begin 
to  mount  the  stair,  and  saw  Sotheran  feeling  for  a  pistol. 

"There  is  only  one,"  Sotheran  said;  "but  he  shall 
not  get  away." 

The  man  appeared  at  the  door.  It  was  Tabb,  with 
his  musket  and  accoutrements. 

He  looked  upon  his  master,  and  his  eye  lighted.  He 
had  seen  and  followed  him,  yet  the  glance  was  of  anger. 
Then  he  saw  Tudor,  and  began  to  smile.  The  smile  was 
strange. 

"  Tabb,"  said  Sotheran,  "  I  told  you  to  go  aboard 
the  ship." 

Tabb  planted  his  musket  erect  before  him,  and  looked 
across  its  muzzle  at  his  master.  "  I  went  for  Christine," 
he  said.  He  glanced  at  Tudor. 

"  Tabb,  go!  "  commanded  Sotheran. 

Tabb  did  not  stir;  but  he  looked  at  his  master  again. 
"  She  had  drowned  herself,"  he  said.  "  It  is  your 
doing." 

Tudor  shrank.  The  statement,  so  quietly  made, 
seemed  horrible.  "Christine — what  Christine?"  he 
asked. 

"  Your  sister's  maid,"  said  Tabb. 

"She?"  demanded  Tudor.  "What  have  you  to  do 
with  her?  " 

"  She  loved  me,"  said  Tabb.    "  I " 


Retribution  477 

"  Tabb,  go!  "  repeated  Sotheran. 

Tabb  pointed  at  his  master.  "  He  ordered  me  to  ruin 
her,"  he  said. 

"  Tabb!  "  warned  Sotheran. 

"  He  planned  for  himself,"  said  Tabb,  his  voice  grow- 
ing louder,  "  to  ruin " 

"Tabb!"  Sotheran's  voice  was  cold,  and  his  eye 
was  flickering. 

"  He  planned  to  ruin  your  sister,"  cried  Tabb.  "  One 
night  here  he " 

Tudor,  staring  with  astonished  eyes  at  Tabb,  saw  at 
one  side  the  pistol  flash.  The  report  was  loud.  Tabb, 
staggering,  let  fall  his  musket  and  clasped  his  hand  to 
his  breast.  But  he  did  not  move  his  eyes  from  Tudor's 
face.  There  he  saw  his  revenge;  there,  in  the  pale  and 
angry  countenance,  lay  payment  for  his  wrongs. 

"  See,  he  shoots  me  for  it,"  he  said.  "  You  can  know 
it  is  true,  Captain  Tudor.  And  this,  too,  sir:  He  was 
the  lieutenant  who  met  her  in  the  woods,  there  beyond 
Detroit.  I  was  his  servant;  I  fetched  the  wine.  Mr. 
Ellery  knows.  I " 

There  was  no  warning  of  his  coming  death,  no  blood 
at  his  fingers  or  his  lips;  there  was  only  the  quiet  re- 
strained voice,  the  paling  cheek.  But  he  toppled  like 
an  undermined  pillar,  and  fell  between  the  officers,  his 
brass  cap  rolling  to  the  bed.  Across  his  body  they 
looked  at  one  another. 

"  My  God!  "  gasped  Tudor.     "  You!  " 

He  did  not  ask  for  proof.  There  lay  Tabb,  his  life 
the  payment  for  the  secret.  And  there,  with  sneering 
lip,  confronted  him  the  finished  villain,  who  saw  no 
reason  to  resume  the  mask.  Sotheran  smiled. 

"Well?"  he  said. 

Tudor  gazed  with  a  creeping  abhorrence.  His 
crooked  fingers,  twitching  lip,  and  starting  eye,  showed 


478  The  Colonials 

r 

the  intensity  of  his  surprise  and  loathing.  Were  such 
things  possible? 

"  What  have  you  to  say?  "  asked  Sotheran. 

Tudor  remembered  Alice;  she  depended  on  him.  And 
his  nature,  when  the  first  surprise  had  passed,  turned 
him  rather  to  grief  than  anger.  He  felt  weak  at  the 
shock — crushed  and  not  stung  by  the  discovery.  He 
turned  to  the  door. 

"  Henry,"  he  said,  "  we  shall  meet  again." 

Sotheran  measured  the  distance;  he  was  the  nearer 
to  the  door.  Tudor  should  never  leave  the  room  alive. 

"  And  this  is  your  courage!  "  he  said. 

He  knew  how  best,  with  disdainful  mien,  to  drive  the 
taunt  home.  Tudor  flushed  crimson,  then  compressed 
his  lips. 

"You  shall  know  my  courage  later,"  he  said;  and 
took  a  second  step. 

Sotheran  strode  between  him  and  the  door,  and  laid 
his  hand  upon  his  sword. 

"  Why  not  now?  "  he  asked. 

There  was  such  scorn  in  it,  such  calm  derision,  that 
Tudor  almost  forgot.  His  hand  flew  to  his  hilt — then 
dropped,  as  he  remembered  Alice. 

"  You  cannot  save  Alice,"  said  Sotheran. 

"Draw!"  screamed  Tudor  instantly.  The  blades 
rasped  out,  and  clashed. 

That  was  a  butchery  scarcely  to  be  described,  so 
mean  it  was  and  vile.  Yet  Tudor,  weak  as  he  saw  at 
first  his  hand  turned  against  his  friend,  fought  despe- 
rately and  well.  Wounded  three  times  in  arm  and 
shoulder,  scratched  in  the  neck,  his  forehead  dripping 
blood,  again  and  again  he  flung  himself  against  the 
pitiless  point  whose  certainty  he  knew.  The  eye  be- 
yond it  glinted  murderously;  not  his  was  the  skill  to 
pass  that  guard.  Avoiding  still  the  body  of  Tabb  and 


Retribution  479 

the  musket  on  the  floor,  to  stumble  over  which  meant 
death,  Tudor  yet  felt  his  legs  grow  weak,  his  wrist  and 
shoulder  numb.  Sparks  of  red  danced  in  his  eye,  his 
head  was  ringing,  his  brain  was  dull.  The  room  went 
round;  he  heard  the  clatter  of  his  sword  upon  the  floor; 
and  reeling  against  the  wall,  he  knew  that  he  stood  help- 
less, while  Sotheran  poised  his  sword  in  front  of  him. 

"  So!  "  said  Sotheran. 

It  was  a  voice  of  satisfaction,  deliberate  and  cold. 
Tudor  was  sinking  where  he  stood.  Sotheran  measured 
him  with  his  eye,  chose  his  spot,  and  drove  his  sword 
through  the  man  that  had  loved  him. 

Tudor  fell  sideways,  striking  the  candle  stand,  and 
scattering  widely  the  pure  white  sheets  of  writing  paper 
that  it  held. 

But  he  was  conscious,  looking  up  with  eyes  that  saw. 
Sotheran  wiped  his  sword  upon  the  bed-curtains,  and 
looked  at  the  bleeding  man. 

."  I  sail  in  your  place,"  he  said,  "  on  the  '  Elizabeth.'  " 

He  saw  the  fright  on  Tudor's  face,  the  lips  that  strug- 
gled to  cry  aloud.  Tudor  raised  himself  upon  his  elbow, 
pointing  with  denunciatory  hand.  The  action  was  a 
curse,  but  no  voice  came.  As  Tudor  saw  his  enemy 
turn  to  the  door,  a  flood  of  blood  rushed  from  his 
mouth,  and  he  fell  upon  his  face. 

Yet  he  was  not  dead;  for,  falling  as  Sotheran  thrust, 
the  sword  had  missed  his  heart.  But  more  welcome 
had  been  death.  Long  afterward,  it  seemed,  a  voice 
awakened  him  to  the  torture  of  his  position.  He  heard 
Ann,  in  the  hallway,  crying  with  delight.  The  door  of 
the  room  was  shut;  he  realised  that  she  was  at  the  front 
window. 

"They're  going,"  she  cried.  "The  Lord  be  praised! 
Every  ship,  every  Tory,  every  redcoat!  God  be  glori- 
fied!" 


480  The  Colonials 

Tudor  tried  to  speak.    He  could  not  open  his  mouth. 

"The  last  boatload  gone!"  cried  Ann.  "Their  sails 
are  spread;  never  shall  they  return.  The  Lord  has 
smitten  them." 

Tudor  heard  her  clapping  her  hands  in  ecstasy. 
Again  he  tried  in  vain  to  call. 

"  There  goes  the  '  Minerva,'  "  she  cried.  "  There's 
the  '  Elizabeth.' " 

The  "Elizabeth"!  The  fiend  was  burning  Tudor. 
He  raised  himself  with  desperate  strength,  and,  sup- 
ported on  his  elbow,  wrote  with  bloody  finger  on  a 
sheet  of  paper  that  had  fallen  beside  him.  Fresh  blood 
dripped  from  his  neck  upon  the  floor;  he  dipped  his 
finger  in  and  continued  his  writing,  feverishly,  despair- 
ingly. Then  he  stopped.  Ann  was  still  exclaiming 
with  delight.  He  tried  once  more  to  call;  then,  as  he 
fell,  his  forehead  struck  upon  the  floor.  Ann  heard. 
"  Land  save  us!  "  she  cried,  turning.  "  What  is  that?  " 


CHAPTER  X 

THE   BRIGANTINE   "  ELIZABETH  " 

The  British  fleet  sailed  down  the  harbour,  carrying 
its  load  of  despair  and  mortified  pride.  As  Howe  re- 
ceived a  despatch  from  the  ministry,  commending  him, 
he  bit  his  lip.  As  the  Tories  beheld  their  native  town 
disappearing  behind  the  islands  of  the  harbour,  they 
knew  they  parted  from  the  best  of  life.  And  from  the 
hills  surrounding  the  town  jubilant  thousands  watched 
their  departure,  while  Israel  Putnam  with  his  detach- 
ment had  already  entered  Boston. 

Sotheran  stood  at  the  rail  of  the  "  Elizabeth,"  and 
Brush  was  with  him.  They  were  studying  each  other, 
striving  to  read  each  other's  minds,  each  with  an  object, 
and  each  needing  for  its  accomplishment  the  other'* 
consent. 

"  So  Captain  Tudor,"  Brush  was  asking,  "  will  join 
us  this  evening  at  Nantasket?" 

Sotheran  eyed  him  so  steadily  that  the  man's  eye 
fell.  The  captain  saw  in  Brush  the  signs  of  recent  dis- 
sipation ;  the  fellow  had  found  much  liquor  in  the  course 
of  his  plundering.  Yet  there  was  no  abatement  of  his 
original  cunning,  and  Brush,  while  for  ten  days  glori- 
ously exhilarated,  had  not  yet  been  drunk.  He  had 
worked  steadily  and  systematically. 

"  You  are  ordered?  "  Sotheran  asked,  "  to  rendezvous 
with  the  rest  in  Nantasket  Roads  ?  " 

"  Ay,"  answered  Brush. 


482  The  Colonials 

"  You  must  have  much  valuable  merchandise  aboard." 

Brush  looked  at  the  captain,  with  a  slow  and  meaning 
smile.  He  had  twenty  thousand  pounds  under  his 
hatches.  His  eye  gave  his  answer. 

"  The  boat  is  swift  ?  "  asked  Sotheran.  "  She  is  good 
for  an  ocean  voyage  ?  " 

An  ocean  voyage?  thought  Brush.  There  were 
two  meanings  to  the  phrase.  "Ay,"  he  answered. 
"  Swift  and  seaworthy." 

"  What  means,"  went  on  the  captain  deliberately, 
"  have  you  for  defence?  " 

"  My  crew,"  said  Brush  aggressively.  "  Twenty- 
three  men,  armed,  and  bold  blades  every  one." 

"  Ruffians  every  one,"  agreed  Sotheran.  He  had 
been  observing  the  men;  they  were  the  very  scrapings 
of  the  wharves.  It  was  a  large  crew  for  so  small  a  boat. 
He  pursued  his  enquiry. 

"  Your  sailing  master,"  he  asked.  "  Is  he  under  your 
orders  ?  " 

"  He  is,"  answered  Brush.  He  gave  again  his  smile. 
The  sailing  master  was  as  great  a  rogue  as  any  of  the 
crew.  For  his  part  Sotheran  had  read  the  man's  char- 
acter, and  was  satisfied. 

"  These  goods  aboard  the  ship,"  he  said.  "  If  they 
were  your  own,  now,  and  in  the  proper  market,  they 
would  make  you  rich?  " 

Brush's  smile  vanished;  this  was  coming  close.  He 
looked  the  other  in  the  eye.  "  They  would  be  well 
enough,"  he  said. 

"  The  smugglers  on  the  Cornish  coast,"  said  Soth- 
eran, "  are  bold  and  clever  fellows."  He  paused;  Brush 
made  no  answer.  The  captain  added :  "  They  ask  no 
questions." 

Brush  was  scowling  in  the  captain's  face,  trying  to 
read  his  meaning.  "  Speak  plainly,"  he  said  roughly. 


Retribution  483 

The  "  Elizabeth  "  had  opened  up  a  passage  of  water 
to  the  left.  Sotheran  waved  his  hand  to  it.  "  You  were 
boasting  just  now,"  he  said,  "  that  you  knew  the  harbour 
well.  What  is  that  passage  ?  " 

"  Pulling  Point  Gut." 

"Where  leads  it?" 

"  To  the  open  bay." 

Sotheran  still  went  deliberately  toward  his  object. 
He  looked  at  the  other  vessels  of  the  fleet.  "  We  are 
almost  the  last,"  he  said,  "  and  the  war  vessels  have 
taken  the  other  channel."" 

"  Ay,"  said  Brush  quickly.  Out  of  the  corner  of  his 
eye  the  captain  measured  him.  He  was  impatiently 
interested,  and  his  scowl  was  lessening;  the  captain's 
purpose  seemed  to  chime  with  his. 

"  How  long,"  asked  Sotheran,  "  will  the  fleet  lie  at 
Nantasket?" 

"  Until  the  wind  changes.    Perhaps  days." 

"  Hm !  "  said  the  captain.  Anchored  with  the  fleet, 
Alice  could  obtain  aid  from  the  nearest  vessel  so  soon 
as  she  discovered  that  her  brother  was  not  on  board. 
As  for  Tudor's  disappearance,  Sotheran  knew  that  no 
one  could  explain  it.  But  here,  right  here  and  never  to 
come  again,  was  his  best  opportunity.  He  turned  and 
looked  Brush  in  the  eye. 

"  Steer  into  that  gut,"  he  said.  "  There  is  no  one  to 
stop  us.  At  night  head  to  the  eastward.  Land  me  upon 
the  Cornish  coast.  No  punishment  will  reach  you,  and 
your  fortune's  made." 

They  looked  each  other  in  the  eye;  Brush  with  his  low 
cunning,  Sotheran  with  that  power  of  mind  and  will 
which  was  so  misapplied.  Desperate  men  they  were 
not.  No  one  could  put  his  murders  upon  Sotheran; 
Brush  was  sure  of  high  pay.  But  each  saw  offered,  to 
be  gained  by  boldness  only,  the  thing  he  most  desired  in 


484  The  Colonials 

life — for  Brush,  money;  and  for  Sotheran  the  girl  who 
lay  in  the  cabin  below,  her  head  buried  in  the  pillow. 
Brush  laughed;  then  turned  away  and  gave  his  orders 
to  the  sailing  master. 

Ellery  came  to  Brush  as  the  vessel  tacked  and  headed 
for  the  gut.  "  Crean,"  he  whined.  "  Where  are  you 
going?  The  fleet  is  heading  on." 

Brush  paid  him  no  attention. 

"  And  why,"  asked  Ellery,  "  did  you  bring  Roger 
here?"  The  boy  was  sitting,  dejected,  by  the  foremast. 

But  Brush  would  only  smile.  The  boy  meant  money 
to  him. 

Sotheran,  leaning  at  the  rail,  saw  Ellery  go  unsatis- 
fied away.  The  boat  entered  the  gut;  the  fleet  sailed  on, 
and  the  captain  nodded  to  himself.  This  time  he  was 
sure.  While  a  ragged  ropemaker,  desperately  running, 
was  carrying  a  piece  of  bloody  paper  from  Boston  to  the 
lines  at  Roxbury,  the  captain  cast  a  sneering  smile  at 
the  town  behind.  He  saw  no  way  in  which  fate  could 
overtake  him. 

It  was  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  before  Alice  came 
on  deck.  The  "  Elizabeth,"  tacking  about  Nahant  Bay, 
had  been  constantly  making  as  though  she  would  rejoin 
the  fleet  by  the  outside  course  around  the  Brewsters, 
yet  had  as  constantly  edged  away  toward  the  northeast. 
Alice,  looking  about  her,  saw  the  vessel  alone,  almost  in 
the  open  bay,  while  beyond  the  light-house  were  the 
sails  of  the  fleet.  She  glanced  at  the  men  on  deck; 
at  the  bow  were  the  crew,  deeply  interested  in  the  move- 
ments of  the  boat,  half  comprehending  them,  and  more 
than  half  willing  that  their  suspicions  should  prove  cor- 
rect. The  sailing  master  and  Brush,  with  a  seaman, 
were  at  the  wheel.  Thomas  Ellery  was  at  the  quarter. 
Then  she  saw  Sotheran. 

For  a  moment  longer  she  looked  around  for  her 


Retribution  485 

brother.  Then  she  realised  that  he  was  not  there.  She 
had  forgotten  him  in  her  other  thoughts,  but  had  he 
been  on  board  he  would  have  come  to  her  cabin  before 
now.  He  was  not  on  the  "  Elizabeth,"  and  a  sudden 
fear  oppressed  her. 

But  she  went  directly  to  Sotheran,  and  looked  at  him 
commandingly  as  he  removed  his  hat.  "  Where  is  my 
brother?"  she  enquired. 

"  I  met  him  in  the  street,"  he  responded,  "  before  we 
left  the  town.  He  told  me  that  he  had  been  required  to 
attend  the  general,  and  begged  me  to  sail  with  you  as 
far  as  Nantasket.  There  he  would  join  us." 

"Where  is   Nantasket?" 

"  There,"  and  he  pointed,  "  with  the  fleet." 

Her  eyes  did  not  leave  his  face.  "  Why  are  we  not 
going  there?  " 

"  We  are  heading  there,"  he  answered. 

It  was  true ;  the  bow  of  the  brigantine  was  that  mo- 
ment pointed  toward  Nantasket  as  she  tacked  against 
the  easterly  breeze.  But  Alice  did  not  believe.  She 
gave  the  captain  one  searching  glance ;  he  met  it  coldly. 
Then,  looking  again  along  the  deck,  she  saw  Roger. 
The  realisation  of  her  position  was  greater  than  all 
other  feelings.  She  felt  no  anger,  no  fear,  but  thinking 
quickly,  she  beckoned  to  the  boy.  He  rose  to  follow ; 
she  went  again  to  the  companionway,  and  sought  her 
cabin. 

The  brigantine  tacked  on,  edging  further  and  further 
from  the  fleet.  Beyond  the  Brewsters  Sotheran  saw  the 
sails  of  the  many  vessels,  some  already  being  furled  as 
they  arrived  at  the  anchorage.  The  afternoon  wore  on, 
the  breeze  held  good,  and  the  captain,  as  he  quietly 
watched,  saw  his  plan  succeeding.  An  hour  and  a  half 
to  dusk;  then,  as  Brush  advised,  they  could  head  boldly 


486  The  Colonials 

along  the  coast,  and  at  dawn  could  strike  out  to  the 
eastward,  toward  England. 

He  saw  Brush  coming  quickly,  with  a  troubled  face. 
"  She  has  locked  herself  and  the  boy,  sir,  within  the 
cabin." 

Sotheran  smiled.  "  I  do  not  care,"  he  said.  The 
voyage  would  last  for  weeks. 

"  But  Roger,"  said  Brush,  "  had  a  knife.  He  forced 
the  steward  to  give  them  food — biscuits,  wine,  and 
water.  He  found  a  pistol,  and  they're  well  provisioned." 

Down  in  the  cabin  Roger  was  examining  the  pistol. 
"  It  is  well  primed,"  he  said.  "  The  flint  is  good.  If 
he  gets  in  you  can  shoot  him." 

Alice  shook  her  head.  She  would  not  risk  a  third 
deliverance.  "  No,"  she  said,  "  if  he  gets  in,  the  bullet 
is  for  me." 

Roger  showed  his  own  weapon,  the  knife.  "  But  this," 
he  said,  his  sharp  eyes  bright,  "  is  for  him.  Wait  till  I 
strike." 

Sotheran  dismissed  Brush  with  a  careless  nod.  "  We 
will  leave  them  overnight,"  he  said.  "  I  will  get  the  boy 
out  in  the  morning." 

And  still  he  lounged  by  the  rail,  triumphant,  as  the 
sun  went  down.  The  future  was  brighter  than  the  few 
gleams  along  the  sky.  Alice  would  be  his ;  his  way  of 
life  he  could  retain.  Carried  to  England  by  a  mutinous 
crew — so  his  story  would  be — the  voyage  would  cement 
his  attachment  to  Alice.  Fortunate  indeed,  every  one 
would  remark,  that  he  should  be  there  to  defend  her 
from  the  sailors,  since  her  brother  had  been  killed  in 
Boston  by  the  ropemakers.  Alice  being  left  alone  in 
the  world,  she  would  marry  him  as  a  matter  of  course. 

But  along  the  road  to  Lynn  was  thundering  a  horse- 
man, pale,  eager,  shaking  the  reins  upon  his  horse's 
neck  and  leaning  forward  in  the  saddle.  He  had  plunged 


Retribution  487 

down  the  hill  of  Dorchester;  he  had  coursed  through 
Roxbury,  Brookline,  and  Cambridge;  he  had  crossed 
Charlestown  Common  within  gunshot  of  the  entrench- 
ments on  Bunker's  Hill ;  and  swimming  the  Mystic 
River  at  Penny  Ferry,  had  rushed  to  Winnissimet  and 
taken  the  coastwise  road.  Folk  scattered  before  his  furi-' 
ous  speed,  and  crying  to  know  if  the  town  were  entered, 
knew  that  they  were  not  heard.  He  passed  through 
Chelsea;  he  sped  on,  and  seeing  before  him  the  long  salt 
marshes,  knew  that  his  horse  could  carry  him  to  Lynn. 

It  was  Frank  Ellery.  Burning  his  mind  were  the 
words  of  Tudor's  bloody  note ;  he  heard  them  through 
the  wind  that  whistled  in  his  ears.  "  Sotheran  has  killed 
me.  Alice  on  the  brigantine  '  Elizabeth '  is  alone  with 
him  and  at  his  mercy.  Avenge  us  both." 

He  was  flying  to  avenge  them.  He  bore  in  his  breast 
a  note  from  Washington  to  Captain  Manly,  who,  on  his 
schooner  in  Lynn  harbour,  was  waiting  orders  from 
headquarters.  Frank  had  outstripped  the  messengers 
who  went  before  him,  for  he  rode  the  best  steed  in  the 
army,  Washington's  own. 

And  that  evening  he,  on  board  the  warlike  fisherman, 
sailed  past  Nahant  out  of  the  harbour  of  Lynn.  The 
breeze  was  dying;  slowly  through  the  night  the  vessel 
crept  out  into  the  broad  bay.  Through  the  watches 
Frank  stood  by  the  rail  or  paced  the  deck ;  at  dawn  his 
eyes  were  scanning  the  water. 

Captain  Manly — manly  indeed! — came  to  Frank 
when  the  light  of  day  was  full.  "  Young  man,"  he 
said,  "  go  below  and  sleep." 

"  I  am  strong  enough,"  answered  Frank,  "  for  that 
which  I  came  to  do." 

"  How  can  I,"  asked  the  captain,  "  pick  out  one  ves- 
sel from  their  fleet?  I  must  take  the  stragglers  only." 

Frank  groaned.    "  I  know,"  he  said,  "  I  know." 


488  The  Colonials 

"  The  breeze  is  slight,"  said  Manly.  "  They  will 
not  leave  their  anchorage  to-day.  We  cannot  go  too 
near." 

Frank  turned  away.    "  I  know,"  he  groaned  again. 

"  Sail  ho !  "  came  from  the  masthead. 

"  Where  ?  "  cried  Frank.     "  Where  ?  " 

"Where  away?"  asked  Manly. 

"  South  by  east.     Brigantine." 

"  A  brigantine !  "  cried  Frank.    "  My  God !  " 

"  South  by  east !  "  ordered  Manly  to  the  helmsman. 
He  looked  at  the  young  man  near  him,  trembling  with 
his  ardour.  Then  he  took  the  helm  himself. 

In  half  an  hour  they  saw  her  clearly,  not  three  miles 
away,  a  little  brigantine.  But  the  wind  had  died;  the 
schooner  lay  rolling,  flapping  her  useless  sails.  Manly 
gave  the  helm  to  a  seaman,  and  went  again  to  Frank. 

Frank  turned  to  him.  "  It  must  be  she,"  he  said 
hoarsely. 

It  was  the  "Elizabeth";  the  calm  had  stopped  her 
flight.  And  Sotheran,  not  pleased  at  the  chance  which 
left  him  within  masthead  sight  of  the  fleet,  was  making 
up  his  mind.  Day  or  night,  he  should  not  be  balked, 
and  the  time  was  now. 

He  beckoned  Brush.  "  Have  you  tried  to  get  the 
boy  out?" 

"  He  will  not  come." 

Sotheran  looked  at  him  fixedly.  "  Are  you  with  me 
in  this  matter?  " 

"  I  am,"  said  Brush. 

"  Then  come  with  me.  Tell  your  men,  all  but  Ellery 
and  the  captain,  to  keep  away  from  the  stern  of  the 
ship." 

There  might  be  cries  and  screams,  but  he  was  deter- 
mined. Waiting  until  Brush  had  given  the  order,  Soth- 
eran led  the  way  to  the  cabin. 


Retribution  489 

But  on  the  little  schooner,  Frank,  trembling  like  a  dog 
at  sight  of  its  quarry,  besought  Manly.  "  Boats,  boats !  " 
he  begged.  "  I  will  go  in  one.  We  can  take  her." 

"  Captain  Ellery,"  responded  Manly,  "  yonder  comes 
the  fog.  In  five  minutes  we  shall  not  see  the  brigantine. 
Our  boats  could  neither  reach  her  nor  return.  We  must 
trust  to  luck,  or  God,  to  drift  the  two  together." 


CHAPTER  XI 

PUNISHMENT 

Roger  crouched  listening  by  the  cabin  door.  Alice, 
with  the  pistol  ready  in  her  lap,  sat  by  the  open  port- 
hole. 

"  They  have  been  gone  a  long  time,"  whispered 
Roger.  "  Perhaps  they  are  coming  back." 

Alice  smiled  wearily.  Soon  or  late  they  would  re- 
turn, no  longer  with  persuasions  or  threats,  but  with 
force.  Roger  was  stanch  and  would  not  flinch,  but 
they  could  overpower  him.  Yet  she  could  save  his  life, 
at  least. 

"  Roger,"  she  said,  "  if  they  are  gone,  you  can  slip 
out." 

He  turned  on  her  with  startled  eyes.    "  And  you  ?  " 

"  I  shall  die,  whatever  happens,"  she  answered.  "  It 
is  to  save  your  life." 

"  To  save  my  life  ?  "  he  cried  reproachfully.  "  Could 
I  ever  face  Master  Frank  again?  No!"  He  left  the 
door  and  came  to  her.  "  And  I  love  you,"  he  said  shyly. 

"  Then  stay,"  she  said.  "  I  think  they  will  spare  you." 
She  took  his  hand.  "  They  may  come  again  at  any 
minute.  God  bless  you,  Roger!  " 

He  answered  with  tears,  and  went  again  to  the  door. 
Sitting  quietly,  looking  out  upon  the  fog,  Alice  began  to 
take  farewell  of  life. 

So  short  a  life  and  so  dreary,  with  such  glimpses  of 
happiness,  and  such  an  end!  She,  born  for  a  bone  of 


Retribution  491 

contention,  knew  far  too  much  of  violence  and  death. 
Her  life  had  repeated  itself.  There  in  the  woods  with 
Frank,  how  like  it  had  been  in  the  hut,  waiting  the 
shots  of  the  Chippewa,  to  this  suspense,  before  Sotheran 
and  Brush  should  come  again  ! 

And  she  heard  at  that  moment  their  steps  on  the 
deck.  "  Here  they  come !  "  whispered  Roger  at  the 
door.  "  And  Mr.  Ellery  is  with  them." 

She  recognised  the  whimper  of  Frank's  uncle.  "  I 
tell  you,  you  must  not,"  he  was  protesting.  "  I  can- 
not  " 

"  Come !  "  It  was  Sotheran's  stern  voice,  and  Ellery 
was  silent.  The  steps  stopped  at  her  door;  she  heard 
the  rustle  of  their  clothes,  and  then  a  knock. 

"  Roger,"  said  Brush  briskly  from  outside.  "  Roger, 
can  you  hear  me  plainly?"  He  was  speaking  with  his 
mouth  close  to  the  panel. 

The  boy  would  not  speak. 

"  Listen,"  said  Brush  after  an  interval.  "  Ye've  re- 
fused to  obey  your  uncle.  But  here  is  one  ye  must  obey. 
Here  is  your  father,  Roger." 

Roger  turned  on  Alice  an  astonished  glance,  then 
pressed  closer  to  the  door. 

"  I  never  told  ye,"  Brush  began  after  listening;  "  that 
ye  had  a  father.  But  he's  been  alive.  It's  Mr.  Ellery. 
You  must  obey  your  father,  boy.  Do  as  he  bids  ye !  " 

Roger,  with  his  teeth  set,  listened  closely.  He  heard 
Sotheran's  low  command:  "Speak!" 

"  Roger,"  quavered  Mr.  Ellery's  unwilling  voice,  "I'm 
your  father,  boy.  I  didn't  know  you  till  last  year.  Now 
111  take  you  and  take  care  of  you.  I  want  you  to  come 
out." 

Roger  was  silent. 

"  It's  truth,  Roger,"  said  Brush  presently.  "  Ye  can 
know  it's  truth;  Mr.  Ellery  and  I  are  old  friends." 


492  The  Colonials 

"  It  is  not  truth,"  cried  Roger.    "  Prove  it." 

"  Prove  it  ?  "  asked  Brush. 

"  Ay,"  answered  Roger.  "  Let  him  tell  me  what  my 
mother  was  like." 

He  heard  Sotheran  again  order  Ellery  to  speak. 

"  Why — "  began  Ellery,  not  cheerfully.  "  She  was 
tall,  and  had  a  limp,  with  a  mole  on  her  cheek." 

Alice  saw  surprise  on  Roger's  face.  The  description 
was  correct. 

"  Come  now,"  said  Ellery.  "  You  see  it's  true.  Come 
out;  I'll  treat  you  well.  You  shall  have  money,  and 
plenty  of  clothes.  Come,  and — I'll — I'll  send  for  your 
mother  from  New  York,  and  we  will  live  together." 

Brush  gasped  at  the  offer.  The  intention  was  good ; 
Ellery  was  doing  his  best.  But  from  his  station  Roger 
laughed. 

"  My  mother !  "  he  cried.  "  She's  been  dead  these  five 
years !  " 

In  the  passageway  the  father  and  the  uncle  looked  at 
each  other.  Miserly  resentment  was  on  Ellery's  face. 
Brush  began  to  grin. 

"  And  you've  made  me  pay  for  her  support,"  cried 
Ellery,  "  all  this  while  !  " 

"  To  him,  man,"  urged  Brush.  "  To  him.  Get  the 
boy  out  now.  You  shall  have  the  money  back." 

Ellery,  doubtful  and  provoked,  tried,  but  the  boy 
would  return  no  further  answer.  He  sat,  awed  at  the 
revelation  of  his  parentage,  but  clutching  his  knife 
firmly.  That  he  could  be  an  Ellery  was  a  marvel,  but  it 
made  no  difference  to  his  duty.  It  merely  obliged  him 
the  more  to  serve  Master  Frank.  He  was  so  long  silent 
that  at  last  the  others  gave  him  up. 

"  Enough !  "  said  Sotheran.  His  patience  was  ex- 
hausted. "  Mr.  Ellery,  you  may  go  on  deck.  Brush, 
fetch  me  a  hatchet." 


Retribution  493 

Roger  heard  whisperings  :  "  Their  weapons  !  "  and 
the  rejoinder :  "  In  such  hands  !"  Ellery  scrambled  up 
the  companionway ;  Brush's  heavier  step  went  toward 
the  steward's  pantry.  The  boy  turned  to  Alice. 

"  Presently,"  he  said. 

They  were  angry  with  him  now ;  they  would  probably 
kill  him.  His  face  seemed  thinner  than  ever  before ;  the 
eyes  were  larger.  But  he  spoke  steadily. 

"  I  am  ready,"  responded  Alice. 

She  felt  as  when  she  had  said  those  words  before,  in 
the  burning  cabin  in  the  woods.  Life  was  oppressive, 
far  too  bitter.  Death  would  be  ease.  With  the  same 
calmness  she  faced  the  end,  and  cocked  the  pistol.  She 
heard  the  returning  steps  of  Brush,  and  looking  out  the 
porthole,  gave  one  sigh  for  the  world  which  others 
found  so  happy. 

She  started.  What  was  that  shape,  mysterious  in  the 
fog?  A  schooner?  There  were  two  masts.  What  were 
those  low  objects  gliding  toward  the  ship.  She  saw 
moving  oars,  but  heard  no  sound ;  there  were  many 
heads  in  the  darting  whaleboats,  and  bristling  weapons. 
Silently  was  coming  the  attack. 

Then  she  heard  Sotheran's  voice  beyond  the  door, 
incisive  and  determined.  "  Now  Roger,  one  last 
chance." 

"  Roger,"  she  whispered  loudly.    "  Look !  " 

The  boy  sprang  to  her  side,  and  saw. 

"  Hold  him  in  talk !  "  she  directed. 

"  Captain !  "  cried  the  ready  boy.    "  One  word." 

"  Well  ?  " 

What  should  Roger  say?  There  came  to  his  mind 
the  hope  of  a  long-planned  revenge,  when  he  should  re- 
veal the  things  that  he  had  done  against  his  tryant. 
This  was  the  time. 

"  Do  you  remember,"  he  asked,  "  the  letter  that  you 


494  The  Colonials 

were  to  send  the  governor,  the  night  you  rode  to  Lex- 
ington ?  " 

There  was  no  answer.  Beyond  the  door  Sotheran  was 
glaring  angrily.  He  understood  at  once. 

"  I  was  not  drunk  that  night,"  said  Roger.  "  You 
never  saw  me  drunk,  Captain.  I  was  always  listening. 
I  burned  that  letter." 

He  heard  the  captain's  breath ;  it  was  quicker,  and  the 
boy  smiled  to  himself.  He  looked  at  Alice ;  she  ges- 
tured him  to  proceed. 

"  Do  you  remember,"  he  asked  again,  "  the  time  Mr. 
Ellery  came  to  your  room,  and  agreed  with  you  to  find 
Master  Frank's  papers  ?  I  listened  at  the  door.  I  told 
his  nephews."  , 

He  listened  again ;  it  would  have  paid  him  a  hundred- 
fold if  he  could  have  seen  Sotheran's  face. 

"  I  told  Master  Frank,"  he  went  on,  "  of  the  time  you 
went  to  Dorchester  and  took  measurements.  He  wrote 
Doctor  Warren." 

"  Roger,"  said  Sotheran,  "  come  nearer  to  the  door." 

The  voice  was  tense ;  its  accents  spoke  blood-hunger. 
Roger  shrewdly  shook  his  head  and  slipped  into  the 
bunk.  Crawling  toward  the  door,  he  spoke  again. 

"  I  made  Tabb  drunk,"  he  said.  "  He  told  me  the 
secret — that  you  were  that  officer  in  the  woods.  I  told 
Mistress  Alice." 

"  Nearer !    Nearer !  "  repeated  Sotheran. 

Roger  looked  at  Alice.  With  finger  raised  to  him, 
she  was  still  watching.  She  heard  him  pause,  and 
turned  to  him. 

"  More !  "  she  said.    "  More !  " 

"  Captain,"  said  Roger,  crawling  along  the  bunk,  and 
speaking  with  his  head  close  to  the  door — he  knew  the 
demon  of  revenge  that  he  was  conjuring!  "  Captain,  do 
you  remember  that  night  when  you  were  in  the  library? 


Retribution  495 

It  was  I  that  told  the  ropemakers,  and  sent  Pete 
there." 

Sotheran  ground  his  teeth.  He  held  his  pistol  in  his 
hand,  and  was  pointing  it  where  he  supposed  the  boy  to 
be. 

"  For  God's  sake!  "  stammered  Brush.  But  he  dared 
not  interfere,  lest  the  frightful  rage  should  be  turned  on 
him. 

"  A  single  moment!  "  whispered  Alice  to  the  boy. 

"  Captain,"  said  Roger,  "  will  this  pay " 

Sotheran  fired.  Right  in  Roger's  face  the  splinters 
flew  as  the  ball  crashed  downward  through  the  panel. 
But  the  captain  heard  him  laugh. 

"  Missed !  "  cried  the  boy. 

"By  God!"  cried  Sotheran,  whirling  upon  Brush. 
"  Give  me  the  hatchet !  " 

He  snatched  it,  and  struck  once  upon  the  door.  With- 
in Roger  raised  his  knife,  and  kneeling  in  the  bunk  pre- 
pared to  strike.  And  Alice  rose  from  her  seat,  her 
pistol  ready.  But  she  was  listening  for  other  sounds. 

There  came  trampling  on  the  deck,  the  pounding  of 
heavy  feet,  and  the  sound  of  shots.  Loud  voices 
shouted,  there  were  screams  of  terror,  all  in  one  star- 
tling burst.  There  was  a  heavy  fall  directly  overhead. 

"  My  God!  "  cried  Brush,  "  what's  that?  " 

He  started  with  alarm,  turning  toward  the  compan- 
ionway.  As  he  looked,  the  light  was  obscured,  and  the 
sailing  master  shouted  :  "  Brush  !  Captain !  Priva- 
teers !  For  God's  sake,  help !  " 

Then  he  was  gone.  Brush,  turning  to  the  captain, 
saw  him  with  his  hand  already  on  his  sword.  As  Brush 
stooped  to  seize  the  fallen  hatchet,  Sotheran  leaped  past 
him,  and  drawing  his  weapon,  rushed  up  on  deck. 

The  deck  was  a  mass  of  fighters;  but  the  issue  was 
determined.  Struggling  at  the  bulwarks,  at  bay  against 


496  The  Colonials 

the  masts,  the  crew  of  the  "  Elizabeth "  were  going 
down  one  by  one.  Surprised  and  weaponless,  but  ask- 
ing no  quarter,  like  the  wharf-rats  that  they  were  they 
fought  with  hands  and  teeth,  or  with  capstan-bar  and 
belaying-pin  met  pistol,  pike,  and  cutlass.  The  odds 
were  strong  against  them;  keen,  hardy  fishermen  were 
meeting  waterside  brawlers,  righteous  anger  was 
against  ruffianly  courage,  and  discipline  was  pitted 
against  disorder.  In  the  midst  of  the  fight,  Captain 
Manly  was  directing  his  men,  not  one  of  whom  had 
fallen;  and  of  the  crew  of  the  "Elizabeth"  half  were 
already  dying. 

Then  Sotheran  vindicated  his  title  to  the  sword.  He 
sprang  into  the  fight,  and  the  first  that  turned  against 
him  fell.  Another  drew  back  his  pike  to  dart  it  against 
the  captain's  breast,  but  the  sword,  like  a  snake,  thrust 
instantly.  Blood  spurted  to  the  hilt;  the  man  cried 
choking,  and  reeled  back;  his  lungs  were  pierced.  A 
third  man,  running  with  a  cutlass,  saw  but  could  not 
stop  the  blade  that  cut  his  thread  of  life. 

Into  the  fight  pressed  Sotheran's  resplendent  figure. 
The  sun,  piercing  the  fog,  lighted  his  regimentals,  and 
amid  the  dingy  groups  of  fighters  he  gleamed  heroic. 
Above  his  head  death  flapped  her  dusky  wings,  and  with 
lightning  sword  he  dealt  her  messages.  A  rebel,  ig- 
norant of  his  coming,  was  crying  "  Surrender!  "  to  the 
last  strugglers  of  the  "  Elizabeth."  Sotheran  pierced 
his  back,  and  he  fell  upon  his  face. 

Then  Manly  saw,  and  while  here  and  there  on  the 
deck  the  Tories  were  throwing  down  their  arms,  he 
beckoned  to  the  nearest  of  his  men  and  sent  them 
against  the  Englishman.  Two  sailors,  with  pike  and 
cutlass,  met  him  from  either  side.  But  the  pike  was 
whirled  aside,  the  cutlass  slipped  along  a  parrying 


Retribution  497 

sword,  and  with  two  quick  movements  the  men  were 
slain.  Sotheran  pressed  on  at  the  rebel  commander. 

Manly  prepared  to  meet  him;  but  from  all  sides  his 
men — since  the  last  of  the  "  Elizabeth's  "  crew  had 
yielded — sprang  to  the  rescue.  They  closed  in  upon 
the  captain  like  dogs  upon  an  elk,  and  for  one  brief 
half  minute  they  swarmed  around  him.  But  jostling, 
they  checked  each  other,  and  in  their  midst  the  bloody 
blade,  turned  now  this  way  and  now  that,  played  havoc 
with  them.  It  stopped  a  pike,  and  laid  its  owner  dead. 
It  sent  a  cutlass  flying,  and  thrust  its  wielder  through. 
From  side  to  side  the  captain  fronted,  and  at  each  turn 
ended  a  life.  For  him  it  was  a  carnival  of  fury;  they 
shrank  before  his  flashing  eye  more  than  from  his  sword, 
and  quickly,  like  the  elk  with  swinging  horns,  he  cleared 
a  ring  about  him. 

He  stood  with  ready  weapon;  he  cried  to  Manly,  the 
only  one  he  saw  who  was  distinguished  by  a  uniform: 
"  Come  here,  you  rebel  dog!  " 

The  circle  contracted;  the  men  were  ready  to  protect 
their  commander.  But  a  voice  from  the  side  cried: 
"Hold,  he  is  mine!" 

And  there  stood  Ellery — God!  Ellery!  A  cold  clutch, 
a  hand  of  ice,  was  laid  upon  the  captain's  heart.  Was 
there  magic  in  the  man,  that  he  should  fly  so  far,  and 
there,  upon  the  sea,  confront  him?  He  stood  with 
weapon  lowered,  while  Frank,  raising  his  hand  aloft, 
spoke  to  the  ring  of  seamen. 

"  This  man  is  mine,"  he  said.  "  Let  no  one  dare  to 
touch  him." 

Then  Sotheran  recovered.  He  looked  around  upon 
the  Americans,  and  motioned  them  back.  "  Give  room," 
he  said.  He  turned  to  Frank.  "  So  you,  like  Tudor, 
want  your  turn?" 


498  The  Colonials 

He  spoke  with  purpose,  to  enrage  his  foe.  And 
Frank  flashed  anger  at  him.  Sotheran  saw  it. 

"  That  old  man  in  the  woods,"  he  said;  "  he  is  cred- 
ited to  my  score,  I  think."  Ellery  was  shaking. 
"  Roger,"  said  the  captain,  "  went  overboard  last 
night." 

"  On  guard!  "  cried  Frank. 

The  captain  raised  his  sword  and  prepared  to  take 
position.  He  looked  about  him.  The  deck  was  level, 
the  sea  was  slight,  the  seamen  had  yielded  space  for  the 
encounter.  He  met  Frank's  eye,  and  saw  that  the  Whig 
was  pale  with  eagerness.  Trembling  like  that,  he  could 
not  fight.  Sotheran  spoke  again — his  best  taunt  he  had 
reserved. 

"And  Alice,"  he  said;  "  she  is  mine." 

What  consciousness  of  failure  rushed  over  him?  Too 
long  he  had  delayed  to  seize  his  prize;  with  forty  rebels 
on  the  ship,  Alice  was  now  safe.  A  spasm  of  chagrin 
distorted  his  features,  and  Frank  saw.  All  anger 
passed. 

"  It  is  not  true !  "  he  cried  triumphantly. 

"  Die!  "  hissed  Sotheran,  lunging. 

A  warning  cry  from  the  rebels  broke  into  a  yell  of 
admiration.  Frank  parried  when  the  point  was  at  his 
throat.  He  drew  away. 

"  Once  more,"  he  said. 

The  positions  were  completely  changed.  Frank  was 
self-possessed,  Sotheran  was  furious.  The  Englishman 
called  every  device  to  his  aid,  and  rushed  upon  the 
Whig. 

He  might  as  well  have  tried  to  pierce  a  wall.  The 
slightly  moving  blade  caught  and  turned  aside  his  fierc- 
est thrusts,  his  hottest  lunges.  Yet  without  pause 
Sotheran  pressed  his  adversary.  Springing,  stooping, 
shifting  his  position,  he  sought  a  score  of  ways  to  find 


Retribution  499 

an  opening.  He  circled  his  quiet  foe,  he  thrust  at  face, 
at  throat,  at  breast,  and  without  ceasing  darted  his 
point  so  quickly  that  there  was  scarcely  a  chance  for 
return. 

Yet  there  were  openings.  He  saw  his  adversary, 
with  calm  face,  twice  prepare  to  strike — then  wait.  A 
third  time.  Rage  was  exhausting  the  captain;  he  felt 
that  his  wrist,  wrenched  repeatedly  by  Frank's  iron 
arm,  was  growing  weaker.  His  breath  was  short — 
suddenly,  as  he  watched  the  steady  face,  the  phantom 
of  doubt  swept  before  him,  and  his  point  wavered.  That 
instant  Frank  struck. 

Sotheran  saw  the  bright  blade  dart  at  him.  A 
strange,  dull  pain  shot  through  him  from  breast  to 
back,  and  there,  close  within  his  guard,  was  the  hated 
face,  flushed  a  little,  the  eyes  looking  into  his.  The 
hand  was  at  Sotheran's  very  breast.  He  heard  an 
"Ah!"  deep  and  horror-laden,  from  the  circle  of 
seamen. 

And  then  Frank  sprang  away.  The  captain  saw  the 
blade  again,  red  from  hilt  to  point.  That  strange  pain 
had  again  passed  through  him,  and  now,  benumbed  and 
chilled,  he  stood  without  movement,  staring  with  dull 
eyes  and  open  mouth  upon  his  rival.  Frank  stood  at  a 
little  distance,  waiting. 

Sotheran  understood.  For  a  single  moment  rage 
came  back,  and  with  it  strength.  He  started  forward 
to  strike.  Frank  did  not  move.  Then  Sotheran's  legs 
failed  him:  his  sword  dropped;  he  fell  on  his  knees, 
then  forward  on  his  hands.  Still  glaring  at  his  foe,  his 
eyes  fearfully  wide,  he  lowered  himself  slowly  sideways 
till  he  rested  on  his  hip.  Then  his  head  fell. 

Supporting  himself  on  his  hands,  he  waited.  His 
eyes  studied  for  a  while  the  planking;  his  vision  was 
bounded  by  a  circle  of  men's  feet.  There  was  silence, 


500  The  Colonials 

in  which  he  found  himself  listening  to  his  own  laboured 
breathing. 

Then  a  sail  flapped  aloft,  and  the  brigantine  gave  a 
little  motion.  He  felt  the  response  in  his  sinking  body; 
strength  was  ebbing  away  from  him,  his  arms  were  not 
firm.  A  strange  change  was  going  on  within  him,  he 
was  slipping  away  from  himself.  Suddenly  his  head 
was  near  the  planks,  which  became  flooded  with  red. 
Looking  at  it,  he  winked,  trying  to  clear  his  eyes.  His 
own  blood! 

Pride,  power,  will — where  were  they?  What  was  this? 
He  was  growing  cold.  Was  this  death?  Was  he  dying 
— alone?  With  his  last  effort  he  raised  his  head — only 
a  little — and  saw  through  clouded  eyes  a  ring  of  men. 
They  were  watching  him  die.  God!  At  the  word  hor- 
ror seized  him.  What  was  God?  Punishment! 

Those  around  watched  his  frightful  shudder.     Then 

he  died. 

******* 

It  is  terrible  to  take  the  vengeance  of  God  upon  one's 
self.  Frank,  turning  away  from  the  body  of  his  enemy, 
did  not  hear,  as  he  wiped  his  sword,  the  praises 
showered  on  him.  He  sheathed  the  weapon  and  pushed 
out  of  the  ring.  Manly,  coming  toward  him,  saw  the 
expression  on  the  young  man's  face,  and  stood  away. 

Frank  went  toward  the  stern  of  the  "  Elizabeth." 
There  by  the  shrouds  stood  Brush.  At  the  quarter  rail 
cowered  his  uncle,  pale  and  feverish.  Ellery  trembled 
as  he  saw  Frank.  The  money,  the  silver,  the  jewels, 
now  were  lost  again!  But  Frank  saw  neither  of  the 
men.  He  stepped  to  the  companionway  and  went  down. 

The  light  was  less  there.  He  peered  at  the  shut 
doors.  Which  was  Alice's?  There  was  one  with  a  hole 
in  the  panel,  a  gash  upon  the  frame.  He  struck  upon  it 
quickly. 


Retribution  501 

"Open!" 

"  Who  is  it?"  cried  a  voice  inside. 

"  Roger,"  answered  Frank.  "  Thank  God  you  are 
alive!  It  is  Master  Frank." 

He  heard  the  inarticulate  cry  of  joy.  The  bolt  rat- 
tled, the  key  turned,  the  door  opened.  There  was 
Roger,  his  face  aglow,  and  there — like  an  image  of  the 
Virgin,  framed  with  light  from  the  porthole  behind — 
stood  Alice! 

Frank  laid  a  hand  gently  upon  the  boy's  head,  but 
could  say  no  word.  He  passed  the  lad,  and  in  the 
narrow  cabin  held  out  his  arms  to  his  love.  With  eyes 
of  light,  with  lips  aquiver,  she  met  him,  and  with  happi- 
ness unspeakable  gave  herself  to  his  embrace. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE    FAITHFUL    CITY 

The  siege  of  Boston  was  finished;  the  Whigs  came 
again  into  their  own.  In  state,  on  the  second  day,  the 
army  entered  the  town,  and  old  Mr.  Savage  entertained 
at  his  board  the  commander  who,  from  that  day,  stood 
acknowledged  the  greatest  of  Americans.  The  British 
fleet,  getting  at  last  the  wind  they  desired,  sailed  for 
Halifax,  and  more  beside  the  "  Elizabeth  "  fell  into  the 
hands  of  Manly  and  his  little  squadron.  But  with  the 
sailing  of  Howe  virtually  ended  the  first  struggle  of 
the  long  war. 

For  the  obstinate  king  sent  his  men  again  into  the 
field.  Far  from  Boston,  now  impregnable,  the  same 
armies  met  on  other  ground,  and  Washington  continued 
to  wage  the  noblest  war  in  history.  The  successes  he 
achieved — the  ultimate  failure  that  was  Howe's  lot — 
are  written  in  a  thousand  books.  And  the  other  actors 
at  Boston,  for  good  or  ill,  played  the  parts  as  their 
hearts  enabled  them. 

One  only  of  the  British  generals  returned  to  Boston. 
Burgoyne,  the  lovable  and  luckless,  walked  a  prisoner 
through  her  streets.  He  was  not  forgotten  there. 
Some  one  in  the  crowd,  as  he  passed  the  Old  South 
Church,  reminded  him  that  he  had  used  it  as  a  riding- 
hall;  and  from  the  roof  of  a  shed,  perched  where  she 
could  see,  an  old  woman  cried  out  shrilly. 

"  Give  way!  "  she  cried.    "  Give  way!    Give  the  gen- 


Retribution  503 

eral  elbow-room!  "  And  Burgoyne  flushed  at  the  recol- 
lection of  his  boast. 

The  old  woman  was  Ann,  who  lived,  and  happily,  be- 
yond the  end  of  the  war.  She  lived  to  hold  young  El- 
lerys  in  her  arms,  and  to  know  that  the  old  name  would 
not  die  out.  She  saw  Roger  an  educated  man,  and  a 
leader  in  business;  yet  she  never  would  acknowledge 
complete  happiness,  since  Master  Dickie  remained  a 
soldier,  and  would  not  marry. 

But  though  she  would  not  admit  it,  she  was  happy. 
And  Boston,  while  the  town  had  much  to  repair,  and 
still  was  called  upon  to  bear  its  part  of  the  burden  of  the 
war,  knew  contentment  also;  for  war  never  came  there 
again.  But  afar  in  England,  or  in  the  wilds  of  unsettled 
Canada,  those  Tories  who  had  left  Boston  lived  unhappy 
lives.  Some  grew  prosperous  again,  but  the  weight  of 
exile  pressed  on  them  all,  and  many  died  before  their 
natural  time. 

Anthony  Paddock  died — unhappy  Anthony,  who  went 
with  his  father  to  England.  He  was  asked  to  enlist  in 
the  army,  but  refused.  "  I  shall  never  stand  in  arms 
again,"  he  said,  "  against  Dickie  Ellery." 

An  officer  spoke  in  his  presence  of  the  cowardice  of 
the  rebels.  "  They  are  not  cowards,"  said  Anthony 
sadly.  "  You  shall  apologise,  or  else  meet  me." 

The  next  morning  he  received  the  officer's  bullet.  It 
was  not  a  serious  wound;  the  doctors  said  that  they 
could  save  him.  But  he  answered  calmly:  "  I  shall  not 
live."  He  died;  his  heart  was  broken. 

And  many  others  died  heartbroken,  but  not  so 
quickly.  It  is  recorded  that  soon  after  the  end  of  the 
war  forty-five  refugees,  from  Massachusetts  alone,  all 
men  of  station,  had  died  in  England,  mourning  their 
lost  land. 

But  to  the  wretched  remnant  Barbara  Savage — whose 


504  The  Colonials 

name  was  changed  to  Barbara  Tudor — kept  open  house. 
For  George  Tudor  did  not  die,  and  recovering,  he  mar- 
ried her.  In  pity  he  and  his  wife  did  their  share  to 
lighten  the  unhappy  lot  of  Barbara's  countrymen. 

On  the  same  ship  with  Doctor  Church,  when  the  Pro- 
vincial Congress  set  him  free,  Thomas  Ellery  sailed  for 
the  Bermudas.  As  the  craft  went  down  in  Massa- 
chusetts Bay,  and  almost  in  sight  of  their  birthplace 
the  two  prepared  to  meet  death,  what  consolation  could 
they  take  in  the  retrospect  of  their  lives?  And  Crean 
Brush,  after  long  imprisonment  escaping,  lived  only  to 
the  last  recourse  of  a  desperate  man. 

But  in  Boston  Alice  lived  in  the  Ellery  house,  waiting 
the  end  of  the  war,  when  Frank  should  never  leave  her 
again.  And  while  the  English  people — but  not  the  Eng- 
lish king — learned  their  lesson  from  their  kinsmen 
across  the  sea,  in  America  the  new  republic  was 
rising  up. 


A     000111413     1 


